Behold The Facade
by zarah joyce
Summary: Chapter Eighteen uploaded... Marguerite appears on the room where Challenger and Jerome are, and Victoria... what is she to say about Marguerite's deception?
1. One

**Author's Notes: **I am just a wreck right now. I am just about ready to scream my head off, for these past few days have been clear hell to me! Augh. I wonder why professors like to bombard their students with all the necessary schoolwork only at the _end_ of every semester. Augh. It's a good thing it'll be all over in three weeks! *chants* _School Bad. Summer Vacation very pretty! _

Anyways, I got the inspiration to write again after I spent a _very _satisfying morning reading Susan Zell and Mary Whimsey's season two of TOTSS. Never mind that I haven't seen a single episode of that show, but, whew… those two had me loving the Claire-Jack and the Lavinia-Colin romance! Now _that is a very clear indication of how incredibly great those two are. Keep 'em coming, guys! _

*clears throat* ahem, been distracted there for a while. Anyways, hope you'll read this one, and your feedback is the air I breathe. Remember, this is an **AU **story, meaning the characters are borrowed from their own world and tossed into mine. We all know how _that _always turns out *evil cackle* They've been doing that in the show, so I thought, why don't I try my hand at it? Hope it works! *crosses fingers* 

**Disclaimer: **Nothing related to TLW belongs to me.

**Behold the Façade**

_One_

Murmurs filled the ballroom to the very brim. Speculations, gossips, theories were exchanged, not only by the women clad in royal garments and jewelry, but also by the men dignified by age and position in society. Young women sighed their sighs of disappointment; old women questioned the sheer sanity and audacity of the act. Only the men seemed to be undaunted by the fact that Lord Roxton, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country, was to announce his engagement to a virtually unknown, inexistent woman that night. They thought themselves too busy to even consider such a trivial matter. No, the topic of their conversations, young and old men alike, was the impending war that loomed before them. But this matter was lost to the women, as they concerned themselves with the fact that Lord Roxton, one of the most sought-after bachelors in the country, was to announce his engagement to a virtually unknown, inexistent woman.

"Such mockery of the Duke and his daughters," One murmured to her circle of friends. "Didn't we all think that Lord Roxton was to ask the hand of Gretchen?"

"I heard," a second whispered, sending conspiratorial glances all around, "that Lord Roxton wasn't pleased with the way dear Gretchen had seemed to put on quite a lot of weight!" 

Laughter filled the small group.

"What about Gertrude? Isn't she a more fitting bride to the Lord?"

"Yes, indeed. She definitely has the beauty that her sister sorely lacks."

"Gretchen's younger sister, Gertrude? She may be beautiful, but she's only fifteen, for heaven's sake! A child!"

"Despite Lord Roxton's exceptionally good looks," a third licked her lips devilishly, "he is absolutely too old for a little girl. I cannot and will not imagine that he can _bed_ a child every night!"

"Hush, Isabelle!" A caution was aptly called. "You do not want to have the duchess or the duke hear a word you are saying!" 

The group hurriedly dissipated as each one went along her way.

And yet the rumors did not abate. 

"Have you ever seen this woman? This… this--" 

"No, but I am assuming that she is not of our blood, judging from the fact that she has no name that she can boast to us. I have never even heard of the Roxtons mentioning her name in public!"

"Exactly! A definite rag doll that was lifted off the streets by the kind hands of Lord Roxton. A nobody! How ever did Lady Roxton approve of this?!" 

"She must be insane! To let her son be tainted by the blood of a commoner?!"

"How dreadful!"

"Yes, how outrageous! If my son was to ever bring home a wretched thing like this… this _woman_… I don't know what I will do!"

"Oh, I am most definitely having a headache from thinking about what a mistake this could be, especially since Lord Roxton could have taken _my _daughter instead of some nameless face… Anton! Some wine, please, immediately!"

And soon this discussion, too, died down.

"Do we have enough men?" one queried as he took a sip of his wine.

"It's not a question of men as it is a question of ammunition and supplies." Another argued. "And I am very confident that we are in an exceptionally good condition. There is no need to worry."

"It is most comforting to hear that."

"But the war _is _coming… is it not?"

A long pause. "Yes. So let us all do what we can to save ourselves. And our country."

"God save us all."

"Ahem, ahem!" All the conversations in the ballroom died down as their attention was called by Lord Jerome Duncan, a good friend of Lord Roxton. He smiled as all eyes were focused on him. "It is such a great honor for me to be the one to give my friend this party, especially since I was beginning to think that this day will _never _come." A chorus of laughter filled the room. "I have had the privilege of knowing our beloved groom-to-be ever since we were both teething toddlers. I have seen him during his best, and also, during his worst. Believe me, I have never seen anything worse than a bumbling Lord Roxton!" More laughter filled the room. Jerome waited for the chuckles to subside before he continued. "I have also seen him in times when… well… his judgment is a little clouded by his emotions. This man is always at his best when his emotions ran high, and most definitely, he is at his best when he is in love. Ladies and gentlemen, I have never seen my friend quite like the way I am seeing him now. From the first time he had laid his eyes on his bride-to-be, he had seen true love. He has been given an opportunity that most of us could only dream of, and that is, to find our mate in this world. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, Lord _William_ Roxton, and the soon-to-become Lady _Marguerite_ Roxton!"

* * * *

He stood in the shadows, watching, waiting as the expectant crowd listened to the speech. He nursed his glass of brandy silently, allowing the liquid inside to swirl before he took the bitter liquor to his mouth and drank all of it in a single gulp.

Finally, as the Lord appeared with his woman, he had the chance to stare at the man he hadn't seen for quite some time. How he had missed the young lord, but certain passions require that he be out of London for some time. He had been out of the radar of the high and mighty socialites of Europe, and this was one of those 'quirks' that he gladly traded for a life of hunting and gaming. 

When he heard that William was getting married, there was no wasting a single breath for him. He had to get home, in the soonest time possible.

And here he was, looking at the Lord Roxton and his wife-to-be.

The crowd was silent as they looked upon the couple, as they were all surprised to see the woman for the very first time. She was intoxicatingly beautiful; curls of dark, luscious hair that hung past her shoulders and ended just above her enticing hips were allowed to roam free without anything to fasten it down. A bright, wide smile adorned her face as she scanned the crowd with her unusually large, grey eyes. She wore a dress that rivaled the best and the most expensive gown there is; layers upon layers of red silk and satin covered her slender frame, yet it only seemed to heighten her lush figure even more. The woman – whose name was Marguerite, based from Jerome's speech – looked at William, uncertainty clouding her face as the crowd still remained silent. William only smiled at her, took her gloved hands in between his, pulled her gently towards him and kissed her on the mouth. 

Lord John Roxton had never seen anything so revolting in his entire life. 

To be continued…


	2. Two

**Author's Notes: **Oh my! I'm overwhelmed by the reviews. Thanks a bunch, guys! You really do know how to feed my ego… *grin* 

Seriously, though. I loved your reactions about the William Roxton twist. And that reminds me, **the William Roxton in this fic will be *very* different from the William Roxton of TLW. **I thought it would be extremely helpful to caution you about this, because I wouldn't want anyone to be confused. First off, in this demented fic of mine (you'll soon see why *grin*), William is **younger than John. Second, William will have ****blond hair. And he will be **younger **than John. Oh, wait, I alreadysaid that. Sorry :) :) :)**

So you see, I am really twisting TLW to make it fit in my own twisted world… it just seems to be more fun that way… :)

**Disclaimer: **Nothing related to TLW is mine. And that just plain sucks.

**Behold the Façade**

_Two_

"Truly lovely, indeed. You two would make a very beautiful couple."

William grinned at Jerome as he took Marguerite's hand and brought it to his lips. "If I didn't know any better, I'll say that that sounded almost _genuine_, Jerome. I'm touched." 

Jerome straightened and fixed a mock glare at the young lord. "Is this the 'thank you' I get for introducing her to you, boy?" 

Marguerite chuckled. "William is _hardly a boy, Jerome." She said, her tone full of sarcasm as she glanced at him. "You, of all people, should know that."_

They heard a few quick gasps after what she had declared, and Marguerite soon noticed that she had become the target for even more curious stares and dubious glances of the men and women around her.

_As if the silent treatment wasn't enough. _She thought, sighing inwardly. Marguerite found it hard to cover the agitation that was eating at her from showing itself in her expression. 

She had been chagrined when she smiled and beamed at the crowd, and they frowned and grimaced at her in return. Clearly, they are displeased with who – or what – they had seen in her. It was obvious, from the varying expressions they wore on their faces, that they thought her to be an unfit and inappropriate bride-to-be for the distinguished lord. _Of all the possible assign—_

"Marguerite?" William's voice pulled her from her thoughts and brought her back to the present. "Marguerite? Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, um," Marguerite gently shook her head and then smiled at him. "I'm sorry. I was preoccupied. It must be the bright lights." She motioned at the chandeliers above them. "It's too… _bright."_

"Which is hardly the word you'd use to describe the people around here, am I right?" Jerome asked her pointedly, his green eyes staring directly at hers.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Sometimes," she told him, "just sometimes, I think that you know me better than I know myself, Lord Duncan."

William lifted his hand and brought it to the small of her back. "Do you want us to leave?" he asked, concern coloring his baritone voice. 

She shook her head again. "No, no. Don't worry about me. This is your party, William. I would not want your admirers to be deprived of seeing you at the last night of your being a bachelor." 

"Quite a mouthful, Marguerite." Jerome said. A servant passed by them, his hands full with the plate he was carrying. Jerome nodded at him, then took three glasses of wine from the servant's load. He gave one to William, and then the other to Marguerite. She accepted hers very willingly.

"Are you certain?" William asked again. "If you want to, we could—"

Marguerite smiled, and then patted his cheek with her hand. "I'm fine, love." She muttered. "Don't worry too much."

William didn't look convinced, though. "Well, if you are—"

"Lord Roxton!"

Three heads whipped at the sound of the voice.

"Duke Richtford!" William greeted the newcomer with a tight smile adorning his handsome face. "How nice of you to come."

"Where are your lovely daughters?" Jerome asked shrewdly, ignoring the pained look that William sent his way.

"Yes, yes, indeed." Duke Richtford acknowledged Jerome's presence with a brief nod. "My daughters are the main reason why I came here in the first place." He then pinned William with a deathly glare. 

"Oh, you mean Gertrude and Gretchen?" Marguerite asked suddenly.

The duke looked at her contemptuously, as if he could not even begin to fathom the reason why he was even tolerating her presence in the first place. "Lord Roxton, may I suggest a more _private place to conduct our discussion?"_

William looked at Jerome, then at Marguerite, before he finally turned his eyes on the elderly. "I could not see the reason why we cannot discuss here, Duke Richtford."  

The duke opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut abruptly. He sent another scathing glance at Marguerite's way. "Well, if you must know—"

"If you must excuse us," Jerome said as he stepped in between the other men. "William, I am going to borrow your lovely bride-to-be for a little while. I sense that Duke Richtford's reason is of utmost importance." 

"That is greatly appreciated, Lord Duncan." Duke Richtford said pointedly. Jerome merely nodded at him.

"Love," Marguerite said as she placed a hand on his arm. "We will be at the garden." She then turned to look at the duke. "Please give the duchess my regards." She ignored the cry that came out of the duke's mouth as she took Jerome's hand and walked out of the ballroom. 

As soon as they stepped onto the garden, Jerome could not help the laugh that came out from him. "Marguerite! Such audacity! To mock the duke like that?"

"Oh, please. Like he did not mock me first." She said blithely. "A kind remark deserves another."

"As much as a scathing remark would?"

Marguerite nodded. "Precisely. Or even more so." She then proceeded to sit on one of the benches that lined the spacious garden. "I've always wondered why the duchess left him. Now I know. He is such a pompous ass!"

Jerome clucked his tongue. "Language, Marguerite. Now is not the time to strip yourself of the manners that you've worked so hard to acquire."

Silence then reigned between them.

Suddenly, Marguerite stood up. "Any word?" she asked in a hushed voice.

All the laughter in his face disappeared as soon as she spoke in that serious tone of hers. "Not yet." He answered. "But _he said to wait for it. If not tonight, then—"_

She began to pace. "Jerome, I'm to be married _tomorrow! If I were to—"_

"Marguerite, Jerome!"

They both looked at the approaching Lord Roxton.

"We'll talk about this later." Marguerite mouthed to Jerome. She then gave William her brightest smile. "Hello, love. How did your conversation with Duke Richtford go?" She asked, all the seriousness in her face banished in an instant. 

*

He had become either too skilled in camouflaging himself as he blended with the shadows, or too unpopular as he noticed that no one even acknowledged his presence in the engagement celebration of his beloved brother. 

Either way, Lord John Roxton was glad, because it gave him more time to be reacquainted with the society that he happily left behind five years ago.

With a glass of brandy firmly in his hands, he decided to walk around the grand house of Lord Jerome Duncan. Personally, he knew nothing much about the lord, only that he was a very good and close friend of his brother. If he recalled correctly, William often described Jerome as "the untypical radical." 

John offered a smile at two young women whom he had caught staring at him with youthful admiration on their faces. It happened so fast it was rather comical; these two women blushed a deep red, then turned around and walked away from him. He shook his head in amusement. _It's not always that William attracts the most beautiful of women. _

At the thought, he let his eyes wander around, trying to spot a certain red-clothed brunette with wide grey eyes and wild hair. One sweep over the majestic house and he instantly knew that his prey wasn't there. In fact, another sweep more and he found to himself that his brother wasn't there, too.

He grimaced. _William must be where his woman is. Poor boy, he's always the fool when it comes to beautiful women._

There was something about the woman that had John question his brother's senses when it comes to choosing a suitable bride. Was it the fact that she was older than William? Was it the fact that she was a new face in the crowd? John couldn't tell. But there was something… something amiss, something that told _his_ instincts to never trust the woman anything, let alone the life of his brother. As a hunter, he never doubted his instincts as it had never failed him before.

With this Marguerite, he sure as hell's going to trust them now.    

Just then, a flash of red caught his eye. John Roxton followed it, and smiled at what he saw.

The woman was alone. He had neither William nor Jerome beside her.

_Now _was the time to test whether or not his instincts were true. 

To be continued…


	3. Three

**Author's Notes: **You know I love all types of reviews I get. Thanks everyone! You all give me the encouragement I need to write more. Hope you'll like where I take this one!

Um, I also learned that William **is blond, TLW-wise. Hehe. I never saw 'Cave of Fear', but thanks to the spoiler I got, I saw for myself that he was. I was, like, 'Oh my God! I thought he has ****brown hair like John does!' So if you caught that one the last time… shush! Just between you and me, 'kay? ;p**

*sigh* I hate debating. I really do. And the sucky thing here is that I have one this Saturday… and it's an _impromptu _debate! As if a planned one wasn't enough! *sigh*

**Disclaimer: **Nothing related to TLW belongs to me.

**Dedication: **This is to both _TLWROX_ and _veggie_5. You both have been there for me since day one – from the first chapter of my first story to this latest one. I appreciate your presence, truly. *wipes tear* Ahem. Excuse me for being sentimental there for a while… :) _

**Behold the Façade**

_Three_

Marguerite tried to shrug off the feeling that she was being intently watched. 

She casually walked towards the ballroom, head held high, a small smile held firmly in place. She had left Jerome and William to themselves at the garden for a while when another of their kind deliberately ignored her presence and talked to the men as if she was some type of invisible being. This man, this Earl Bennington, was almost as worse as the duke, for he kept on looking at William and at Jerome and never once attempted at making eye contact with her. So she took the initiative that Jerome had displayed a moment ago and left on her own. 

_What am I, a plague? A leper? _Marguerite noted how the crowd seemed to part for her as she walked around, as if they were all disgusted at her for a reason she did not know of. She smiled at one man, an elderly at that, and he just moved his head and looked at another. She tried to smile at a young lady, but she just inched her nose up higher and stared back at her with contempt. Clearly, aside from William's and Jerome's, there were no other friendly faces on this crowd, and certainly, there will never be anyone bold enough to reach out and attempt to have a conversation with her. 

Marguerite was fine with that.

It wasn't the first time that she had been treated like a diseased being.

She raised the glass of wine to her lips and took all its content. A servant passed by her, and he took her empty glass and replaced it with a full one. She smiled at this servant and, finally, she was rewarded when he smiled back.

And these people around her think they were the educated ones, when it was clear that they have no sense of courtesy and politeness!

She raised the glass of wine to her lips, and was about to drink when a rough, ragged voice spoke to her.

"Good evening." 

Marguerite tried to hide her surprise at his boldness to speak to her when everybody else thought it was a sin.

She inclined her head at the stranger. "Good evening," she murmured. 

The man only smiled at her in return. "Nice night, isn't it." He said.

She chuckled. "Nice." She echoed. _Small talk, Marguerite thought. _And I _dared _hope that he was as intelligent as he looked!__

The stranger was as tall as they come, his head towering above all the women and most of the men. His hair was combed back to perfection, allowing one's eyes to feast on the curves that lined his face. Hard lines lined the areas around his mouth and eyes, but it didn't serve to make him look older. It made him look… _distinguished. _

_Like William. _Even she was surprised at the thought.

He took the glass of brandy to his lips and emptied it before he turned to her. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

_Such audacity! _Jerome's voice floated to her ears. Marguerite looked at the man before her, her eyes appraising, trying to judge what this man was worth, if he has any. She shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she murmured again.

The man was shocked, to say the very least. "Pardon?" he asked. 

She offered him _another _smile, and she was pretty sure her face was going to ache with all the smiling that she did tonight. "I'm afraid not, Monsieur," she repeated delicately. 

He persisted. "Aren't you alone?" He looked suggestively at the empty space beside her.

Marguerite was amused. "No, I'm not." She answered. 

"But you are at this very instant, aren't you?"

_Yes. Do let's point that out more often_. "I am," she said, her tone taking on a more hard edge. "But I won't be the whole night."

He took a step closer to her. "One dance, Marguerite." He said to her. 

_That _called her attention. "How did you know my name?" She said, straightening up.

Her only answer was a grin in return. 

"Marguerite!"

She looked at the place where a familiar voice was calling her name. "William!" She answered.

William smiled handsomely as he spotted her in the shadows. "Why are you hiding in here?" he asked her as soon as he was very near.

Marguerite shook her head. "I'm not hiding," she denied. Unconsciously, she glanced at the stranger beside her, trying perhaps to rub it in his face that her escort has finally arrived, that finally, she wasn't alone.

She found, to her disappointment, that the place where the stranger was was now empty.

"Marguerite?"

She turned her eyes on him. "Hmm?"

"Dance with me?"

His answer was a brilliant smile in return.

* 

He watched the woman intently as she danced in the arms of his brother.

_Marguerite. _The woman had a name, and it felt lovely as it slid past his lips.

John Roxton wasn't pleased with the result of his _first test, yet at the same time, he was. It was a peculiar feeling, he thought. How… __disappointing._

He watched her intently, and that was why he did not miss the way she seemed to be looking for something, the way her head seemed to move around in search for… _him? _

Ah. As if an answer to his query, the minute her eyes spotted his, she didn't look as if she was searching any longer. Instead, her lips quirked up in what seemed to be a triumphant smile as her eyes sought for a duel that he was wiling to give.

John lifted his glass of brandy at her, as if he was raising a toast in her honor.

She had passed the first test.

But how well will she be able to do the next…?

To be continued…


	4. Four

**Author's Notes: **I just watched Brothers In Arms last Sunday, and… *sniff, sniff* that David Orth could surely act! I loved the scene where he was talking to Major Roxton, and he was saying that he wasn't worth dying for… *wipes tear* I swear, I've rediscovered the reason why I hated that he left the show!!!

One more week of hell to go, then I'm free as a bird! Well, that one week consists of several tests (two for statistics, one for debate, one for psychology, one for management styles and trends) and a presentation (for responsible voting!) So, yeah. One more week of hell to go!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to The Lost World. No infringement is intended.

**Dedication: **This chapter is for Steffi, who's sweet enough to always leave me two reviews, one in this site and the other at the board. I always smile when I get a review from you. Thank you very much! And also, this is for AerinBrown. I know what you're talking about. I also have a tendency to love odd couples (not to mention ramble! J). But wait… I can't answer your question… you would have to see it for yourself! :)

**Behold the Façade**

_Four_

"Marguerite, are you happy?"

The question was asked with such tenderness and caring that she had to stare at him in surprise. "Of course I am, love. What made you think I'm not?"

William shook his head, then grinned like a mischievous boy. "Nothing. It's just that—" he tightened his hold on her waist, "It's just that I had to think of something to say to make you look at me. You seemed preoccupied this whole night. Care to share your thoughts?"

She chuckled at his perceptiveness. "I'm not preoccupied," she said to him as she linked her hands at the back of his neck. "I'm just… thinking."

"Of what?" he pressed.  

_Of why a certain man is staring at me in the shadows. _"Of how our lives will change if we were to marry," Marguerite covered. She'll be damned to say what was on her mind then, that her thoughts were filled with questions about the mysterious man she met earlier. _Though I never really did get to know his name, when it was obvious that he knew mine…_ She mentally shook herself to clear her thoughts and to focus on her immediate surroundings, meaning, her husband-to-be. 

William smiled at her. "Change for the better, I hope." He said. He then gave her a kiss on her cheek. "At this very same hour tomorrow night, you'll be mine, love. I can't wait."

"Yes." Marguerite said. She smiled beautifully, her façade of happiness covering her uneasiness inside. "Tomorrow."

The waltz that they were dancing to ended, and the couple soon stepped out of the dance floor.

*

No sooner than they had left the dance floor was Lord William Roxton forced to abandon Marguerite yet again when another circle of men dragged him and forced him to be included in their conversations about the impending war. 

He could clearly see now the reason why Jerome is always doing his best to avoid conversations like this, why he was always doing his best to excuse himself whenever the discussions tend to be too serious or too grave.

It was too damn boring.

Not that he didn't care about his native land. Far from that, in fact. But he could only take so much. It was _his engagement party, for crying out loud. Can't this wait?_

"Lord Roxton, what do you think?" he was promptly asked.

William Roxton straightened himself, flashed a charming grin and said, "I think that we all should try to forget this war, even only for tonight, and have some fun for ourselves. Who knows, this party might be our last." And with that, he turned around, never minding the fact that he left scandalized men in his wake. 

He had to thank his lovely Marguerite, because he knew that her overconfidence and her nerve must be infectious. 

How he loved that woman! He would do anything to have her as his wife, as mother to his children and as his half for always. 

He loved her, and that was why jealousy readily clouded his thoughts when he caught another man _talking_ to her.

Wasting not one ore breath, Lord William Roxton marched to where Marguerite was. 

*

"Wine?" he offered.

Marguerite shook her head. "I've had two already," she said. She watched his lips thinned to almost a straight line as he deposited the glass at one side of the table.

"You seem to be declining everything that I have to offer you," He said roughly.

"Not really," she told him. "You've only offered me the wine."

"And the dance?"

"Oh, _that._" She chuckled. "Well… yes. It seemed as though I _did _decline everything you offered me."

"May I know the reason why you're doing so?"

Marguerite inclined her head, her eyes feasting on the ragged masculinity that was this man before her. There was something in him, something that told her instincts that she should back off. Normally she would listen to her instincts, but tonight…

Well, tonight was really a different story.

"No." She answered his question. "But one thing I won't decline from you, Monsieur, is if you offered me your _name." _

He looked surprised, and not for the first time that night. 

*

John was about to answer her when another voice interrupted their conversation.

"Marguerite," came his brother's voice from behind him. John closed his eyes, cursing himself for letting his guard down for too long. He shouldn't have risked it, but seeing this woman alone _again _was… too tempting to ignore. Before he approached her, he made sure that William was too entangled in the discussion on the other side of the room before he made his move. He thought that it would buy him some time so that he could proceed with his second test.

What he wasn't counting on was _this… he had planned to show himself to his brother, but not __this early…. _

John opened his eyes. There was no way out.

"William!" Marguerite said. John caught her glance at him before she looked at his brother. "I was just talking to—"

"I noticed." William walked to her, and then took her hand in his. Finally, he raised his eyes to him, his face almost twisted in rage and jealousy… and then the young lord noticeably blanched. "J-John?" he whispered.

John smiled at him. "Hello, William."

Marguerite blinked. "You two know each other?"

John turned to her. "Yes." He said. "You asked for my name, didn't you? It's Lord John Roxton, older brother to this William Roxton." He smiled at her, his eyes filled with something almost akin to humor. "Hello, Marguerite. I'm looking forward to having you in the family."

To be continued…


	5. Five

**Author's Notes: ***bummed out* I just missed 'Ice Age' when it was shown yesterday. Of all the rotten luck!!!! *mutters foul language that will put even sailors to shame*

Anyways, a big **thank** you! **goes out to all those who took time to review this fic… I promise I'll try to make the latest chapters come up quicker. Really, I do promise! *cross my heart and hope to die!***

Oh, um, yeah… a little shameless campaigning here… please, oh please, please _please _go to TLWFix and vote for my fic, Writer's Ink for the Special Edition Challenge… I'm begging y'all!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me. Really. 

**Dedication: **this is for KatrinaAnn… I'm really, really sorry about COTB being abandoned like that. I hope this fic will somehow make up for it… :) And this is also dedicated to Lisa. I know you're waiting for the continuation of FHNH and MT… but in the meantime, I hope you'll read this first… I'll make it up to you guys, I freaking SWEAR!!!   

**Behold the Façade**

_Five_

"Well," Marguerite muttered as she glanced from her fiancé to the man smirking in front of her, "isn't this interesting." _And wasn't that an understatement, she thought to herself._

She had never, in her wildest dreams, thought that this stubborn, arrogant man was related to the refined, sophisticated Lord that she was about to marry. There wasn't even a hint of anything between the two men to make one think that they were related. She fixed a small smile on her face to cover her confusion, but inside she was racking through her brain for even some remote memory of William telling her anything about the existence of his brother. _He did say something about his only sibling being somewhere in the world, didn't he?_ Marguerite's fine brows creased. Damn it, where was the wine he was offering when she needed one? She could really use some of it now. _Think, damn it. Gain some semblance of control over the situation. _She hated being surprised like this, and she was beginning to loathe the man who was the reason for all of it.

"John," she heard William whisper again. It gave her some comfort that she wasn't the only one who's shocked. But was there something else in that tone of William's besides disbelief? She could swear there was some hint of—

"JOHN!" William most certainly _shrieked, his voice loud enough to attract some unwanted attention__. She watched, with the smallest, barest amount of amusement, as the younger Roxton hugged the older one with much gusto. "John! John, you're here! You're really here!"_

"Easy there, boy," The man who calls himself John Roxton said. He wore this very wide smile on his face as he did so, making Marguerite think twice about her earlier assessment that the two Roxtons did not look anything alike. And _that _was another indicator that she… well, that she was more than a little unprepared for this event. The smiles on their faces were _definitely_ identical; it was like one mouth was plastered onto two different heads. Two _very different heads, she affirmed herself. Two very different heads with very similar mouths._

_I wonder if they kiss the same way. _Marguerite was more than a little irritated at this thought that annoyingly kept popping and nagging at her.

"How did you know?" William asked him as soon as the brothers were standing face-to-face again. "I mean, how did you—"

"—get hold of the fact that my little brother is getting married?" John finished for him. She could see the way his mouth thinned, again, when he mentioned that fact. "News like that gets around pretty quick, Wills. Wherever I go, I could always hear the townsfolk gossip about your upcoming marriage. And, very clearly, I could really see _why." He deliberately pinned Marguerite with a look she couldn't quite comprehend.  _

William smiled as he looked at Marguerite as well. "I know," he muttered. "Isn't she a vision, John?" 

"A vision," John echoed, with a peculiar glimmer in his eyes. Then he turned his gaze back to his brother and gave him a hard slap at the back. "Good old Wills," he said, "You never forget the fact that our family always has its preferences." 

"Only the best for a Roxton, we always say." William added. Then the two brothers erupted into equals peals of laughter. 

Too bad Marguerite wasn't in any mood to laugh.

*

An unexpected tap came from behind him.

Jerome turned around and looked at the familiar blue eyes of his 'sister'. "Veronica," he spoke, surprise coloring his tone. "What are you—"

The young woman looked sideways first. "Where's Marguerite?" she asked.

"With William," he answered. "She's waiting. What's the word? How shall we proceed?"

Veronica pursed her lips, then took something out from her purse. "There's been a slight change of plans," she said. She handed Jerome a small, folded note. "The details are all in there."

Jerome frowned slightly as he opened the letter. His eyes widened when he read the contents. "I thought we were to leave tonight?"

"Like I said, there's been some change of plans." Veronica placed her hands over his. "Be very careful, Jerome. You and Marguerite. Tell her we'll be waiting for both of you." She leaned closer to him close enough for her lips to be next to his ear. "Tomorrow. We are all looking forward to it." And then, after a brief, mysterious smile, she's gone.

Jerome looked at the letter in his hands again, determination hardening his handsome face.

Tomorrow. Marguerite and William's wedding.

It's going to be a bloody mess.

*

"How's Mother?"

William gazed about them. "She's fine. I'm very happy that she seems to be going out more these days. She's somewhere around here as we speak, although I am supposing she is with Countess Nicole. Those two had grown quite close, almost inseparable." He answered. "I'm guessing Mother hasn't had the pleasure of seeing that her prodigal son has already returned."

John cocked his head. "Not yet," he muttered. "Though I do want to see her expression once she does. She's practically begging me to return from the first month of my… shall we say, _vacation." _

"More like self-imposed exile, if there's such a thing." 

"May I ask where you have gone, Lord John Roxton?" Marguerite suddenly asked, her expression openly innocent and wondering.

John turned to look at her. "Tibet." He replied. "I visited a monastery there."

She blinked. "Oh," she said. Then, she gave him a wide smile. "I never knew monks were such a gossiping bunch of people."

Both William and John looked at her in question. "Pardon me?" John asked.

"Well, you did say that you heard from the townsfolk about our marriage, didn't you? So naturally, I just assumed that by 'townsfolk' you meant the monks." She batted her eyelashes at him. "What? Was I wrong?"

John lowered his head and chuckled. 

William smiled at her, before returning his gaze to his brother. "Forgive her, John. It's just that she's—"

"Quite alright, William." John told him. "On the contrary, it was quite impressive. Very observant of you, Marguerite." He said to her.

She graced him with another dazzling smile. "Only appropriate for a Lady, don't you think, William?"

William forced out a cough. "Certainly." He said.

Behind them, the orchestra ended their current song and started a new one.

*

John took a step forward. "If I may be too forward to ask, William," he started, "can I have your beautiful bride-to-be for a dance?"

William just smiled. "Of course," he said. "Marguerite?"

The older Roxton watched as a myriad of expressions crossed over her lovely features. "But I—"

"One dance. I'm asking you as your future brother-in-law, Marguerite. I hope you won't turn down a request from family." He held out his hand for her to take, if she dared.

She did. "Of course," Marguerite replied. "I wouldn't even dream of turning down a request from my 'brother'." The sides of her mouth quirked up at the mention of the word.

John Roxton felt his own quirk up as well.

To be continued…


	6. Six

**Author's Notes:** So much for posting the chapters quicker! (but in fairness I posted the last chapter last Monday and now the latest is here, and it's only Friday!) Bleh. I just finished 16 out of the 200 hours required for the internship, and it was just… bleh! Thank God I have my three other friends with me :)

Oh! Three exams tomorrow!!! THREE!!!! OHMYGOD!!!

Ok-ay! You might be thinking, enough about me already, let's get to the (hopefully) good stuff!!! Shutting up now… :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to 'The Lost World'

**Dedication:** This is to the _fab_ulous fab (okay, that was a bad pun, I know… :p) I love your review, I really do! And Tez. LOL! You were totally right in your guess… I was really happy that you saw that 'bloody mess' comment. I was waiting for someone to comment on it, and I was very happy that you did!

**Behold the Façade**

_Six_

John Roxton allowed his large, calloused fingers to completely cover her small, smooth ones. The feeling was quite exquisite; the textures of their hands were truly a wonderful contradiction. Their hands touched, palm to palm, pulse to pulse. He felt her blood flow in that delicate rhythm on her wrist, felt the rapidness that quickly set in when he took her hand. It made him proud, that even though she appears to be unaffected, her body proves otherwise, that indeed his charm has achieved its purpose. But then, what? What comes after?

He decided not to prod on that road further, at least not until after he had his dance with her. 

"Why the smile, Lord John Roxton?" she queried, one brow arched, as he guided her slowly towards the dance floor of the ballroom, as they left William to his lonesome.

John didn't even notice that he was smiling until she mentioned it. "I am just relishing my victory for this night," he stated.

"Victory?"

They stopped walking right at the middle. The crowd seemed to know their importance as they thinned and eventually dispersed, until only a couple of pairs remained brave enough to share the same floor. 

"Yes, victory. My accomplishment. It's not often that I get a second chance around women, you know."

She smiled somewhat snidely. "Somehow I do not doubt the truth behind that."

John lifted his other hand and placed it on her waist, while the other held on to its precious treasure. In beat with the first note, he stepped on forward… and stepped right at her foot.

She hissed in pain. "Brave enough to ask a lady for a dance, and yet quite the idiot when it comes to the actual dancing, aren't you, Lord Roxton?"

He looked down at their feet and hastily removed his foot on hers, disconcerted with the thought that he might have broken some of her bones because of the unusually large feet that he has. "Sorry, sorry." He mumbled apologetically.

"Well. If the ceremony tomorrow cannot be commenced because the bride accidentally suffered a broken foot, William will certainly know _who to blame, and eventually, murder." _

John looked right at her face and caught the self-satisfied smirk in them. He cocked his head. "That can always be arranged," he countered. "Why don't I step on your _other_ foot as well… maybe we can start a tradition where the bride is wheeled in instead of her walking in."

Her face broke into a wide grin and, surprisingly, she chuckled. "Do let's try to actually dance, shall we? And please, sir – be kind enough to be mindful of my feet."

"I'll try that, Miss Marguerite."

There was a short moment of silence between them, him actually being cautious about her feet, her being observant of his expression. Eventually, they finally managed to catch their own rhythm after she showed him some of the basic moves.

"I must say that you learn pretty quickly, Lord Roxton." She told him after a minute or two. "You hardly step on my feet anymore. I'm impressed."

John grinned at her. "I have an impressive tutor. And please, call me John." he said. "It can be pretty confusing, since there _are technically two Lord Roxtons."_

"So I've noticed." She said. "Honestly, as embarrassing as it may sound, I do not know much about you, since William rarely mentions anything about his brother. Truth be told, I don't think he even mentioned you at all."

"The boy must have been pretty occupied to think of his brother. Anyways, I do not blame him; if I were on his shoes I'm guessing I would probably be too busy to be even thinking of my own name." John gave her a long, meaningful look, one that he knew she wouldn't miss. When she said nothing in reply, he shrugged and continued. "Makes us quite even, doesn't it? You don't know about me and I don't know anything about you."

She nodded. "And you never will." She said cryptically.

He ignored the remark. "But we still have tonight," he said. "We still have the remainder of this song to know more about the other. Tell me, Marguerite. Where are you from? Who are your parents? D you have any siblings? How did you meet my brother?"

"I didn't know I was invited for a questioning, officer." She quipped. "Will it satiate you if I were to say that if I _were to marry William then my life might as well have started from the first day of our lives together? That I would deem the past… _my _past, that is, irrelevant and completely unimportant, so questions like that won't seem to matter anymore?"_

John frowned at her. "Such simple questions, Marguerite. And yet you avoid answering them like the plague."

"I have my reasons, **John**." There seems to be a heavy emphasis on his name. "Reasons which my husband is the only one fit enough to know."

"I didn't know my brother will be marrying a Jane Doe." 

She wrinkled her nose. "Jane Doe?" 

"A woman without any identity. Full of mysteries and intrigues. That's what you are."

"Huh. Well," her signature smirk came back on, full force. "there's a lot that you don't know about me, John. And I doubt that you ever will." 

The song that the orchestra was playing abruptly pulled to a halt.

She pulled her hand from his, and gave him quite a scathing look when he didn't give any indication of letting her go. "Song's ended." Marguerite told him. "I better get back to William."

John, while still holding onto her hand, glanced at the orchestra. "Another song is starting," he said. "One more dance, Marguerite."

She glared at him. "Victory's almost always short and sweet, John. Besides, you said so yourself, you have luck at getting second chances from women." Then, with a surprising display of agility and strength, she quickly yanked her hand free from his hold. One last wicked stare at his direction, before she said, "But I just don't think you have a good shot at getting a third." And with that, she turned on her heels and walked out of the dance floor, and left John with more than his fair share of curious stares from those around him.

*

"Marguerite!"

She turned around. "What?!" said she in a biting tone.

Jerome was surprised. "Are you alright? You look quite flushed." He said, indicating the pink tinge on her cheeks.

Marguerite knew this, for she could still feel the heat radiating off of them. "I'm fine," she muttered. "Just had myself some form of conversation with William's brother."

"John? He's here?" Jerome asked. He looked around them, then spotted the older Roxton being hugged by an even older one, the Lady Roxton. Jerome sort of smiled. "That was something I'm not expecting." He turned his attention back to the woman, then inwardly winced at the sight of her glowering at him. 

"Well? Is there a good reason for—"                                      

"Veronica came by."

There was a significant change in her expression. "Veronica? She's here?"

Jerome shook his head. "She already left, but she gave us this." He took the note from his breast pocket and handed it to her. 

As she read, Marguerite cannot help but be surprised. "But this is… unacceptable," she told him. "I thought… is this… is this George's bidding?"

"Veronica didn't say." He replied. "She just said that there's been some change of plans." Jerome looked at her, a smile appearing on his face. "You'd be wearing that wedding gown after all."

"And it might as well have been red in color." She folded the note and hid it in the creases of her skirt. "Come on. We better bid the others a good night."

*

"Oh, John… you don't know how happy I am to have my son home at last."

John took his mother's hand and brought it to his lips. "It is very wonderful to see you again, Mother." He said as she squeezed her hand. "Of course I have to _be_ home at a time like this, it is William's wedding, after all."

Lady Roxton smiled. "The wedding. I am looking forward to it. You're going to love Marguerite, John. She's a very beautiful, intelligent young woman. She will be a lovely wife for William."

William chuckled. "As you can see, John, Mother's more in love with Marguerite than I am." 

"Hush, William. You know what I say is true." Lady Roxton glared at her youngest son. "It'd be good to have a daughter for once. Only God knows how much patience I have to draw from Him while raising two sons!"

"You make us sound so horrible, Mother." John told her. "And you need not worry about Marguerite and I. I'm loving her already as it is." 

As though she heard that she was the topic of the conversation, Marguerite appeared beside William. 

"Marguerite! There you are!" Lady Roxton said. 

She smiled at the older woman. "Hello, Lady Roxton." She said sweetly. Then, she turned to William. "I'm sorry, love, but I have to go."

William looked alarmed. "What's wrong, Marguerite? Are you feeling ill?"

Marguerite shook her head. "I'm just… tired." She gave John one glance as she said this. "It's getting quite late, and I have to have my beauty rest if I were to appear beautiful tomorrow."

"Believe me, you don't have anything to worry about." William told her as he kissed her on the cheek. "Shall I escort you?"

Marguerite shook her head. "I'll just have Jerome take me home. This is your party, William. I want you to enjoy it." She walked to Lady Roxton and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mother." She said.

Lady Roxton placed her hand above Marguerite's. "Be careful, my dear."

Marguerite then looked at John, who has been silent since the moment she came. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord John Roxton." She said to him.

"No, Marguerite." John said, his voice rough. "The pleasure is all mine."

They locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before Jerome appeared and took her hand. "Ready to leave, Marguerite?"

"Yes." She told him, her eyes still holding John's gaze. "I believe I am."

To be continued…


	7. Seven

**Author's Notes: FINALLY!!! **The semester's over… I cannot believe I was able to survive this long! Woohoo!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing related to 'The Lost World' belongs to me.

**Dedication: **This is to Cara. To be honest, I wasn't thinking of Tribune when I thought of Jerome… it was purely a coincidence that they have the same first name… :) And yes, this is dedicated to you, because I share the same sentiment. I also don't believe that any woman would want any other man when she's seen LJR… *swoon* He's such a handsome man!!! Especially in 'The End Game'! Okay, I'll stop ranting now before all of you know what an obsessed freak I can be… 

And, yes. After you read this chapter, some of your questions will be answered. *Some*.

This chapter is quite short. Consider it a preview for the upcoming grand wedding… and to let you in in my little dirty secret… :)

**Behold the Façade**

_Seven_

_Marguerite, Jerome:_

_After some careful thought, I have come to the decision of canceling the trip that would take you both out of the country and out of Lord Roxton's reach. It seemed a wonderful plan at first, to have you leave the groom the night before he is wed; but alas, it is not. Leave him with a broken heart, is it enough? No. Life for a life is a more worthy credo…_

A hand was slammed against the oak table, making the candle flames blink in response. "This is unacceptable, George." Marguerite declared as she waved the note. "Truly unacceptable."

George Challenger stared at her, his mouth carefully tending a very expensive tobacco. "I don't remember soliciting your opinion, Miss Marguerite, as I do not remember inviting you for tonight." He said quietly, undaunted by her fiery appearance. He stood up, his tall frame immediately towering over her smaller one. George snatched the note away from her free hand and examined it. He chuckled. "That Ned," he muttered low, almost to himself. "He made this letter sound too damned poetic." He crumpled the paper and threw it to one side.

Marguerite glared at him. "Poetic or not, it's something I'm _not_ willing to do." 

He gave her a derisive grin as he pulled the tobacco from his mouth. "A little too late to be cowardly now, Marguerite." He said to her. "Besides, you were paid to do as I say. And I order you now to follow my word."

She glanced at Jerome, who was silent from the moment they entered Sir George Challenger's house, and was _still quiet 'til now. The two had gone straight from the party to this house as ordered by Marguerite. She had insisted to talk to Challenger after reading the note. Jerome wasn't exactly willing, but he wasn't exactly in any position to deny her request. So off they went. Since then, he wasn't able to talk to the older man, or even meet his gaze. He was too frightened by his threatening presence._

But Marguerite wasn't. After sending Jerome a scathing glare and damning him for his immobility, Marguerite returned her eyes to the other man and pursed her lips. "I'm willing to return your payment," she said, almost reluctantly. 

George clucked his tongue. "A month with the Roxtons and you suddenly develop a conscience?" He, too, glanced at the silent Lord, even indicated him with a wave of his lighted tobacco. "Jerome, I thought you gave me the coldest and the most able woman to perform the task?"

Jerome lifted his eyes off the floor and turned them to Marguerite. "She is," he affirmed. He offered no other comment after that.

"Then why is she hesitating to do what I please?"

"I was paid to leave a man in the altar, not to kill him in cold blood!" Marguerite almost shouted. She took two steps towards the older man, faltered, then took one step back. "You told me all I have to do was make William fall in love with me and that was it. End of the deal."

"I changed my mind."

"Well then change it back! We never talked about anything remotely related to murder! This is unacceptable!"

George was silent for a minute, as if trying to digest her words. He averted his gaze. Then, when he looked at her again, his eyes almost twinkled in amusement. "Hmm. Forgive me, but I'm trying to get over the irony of hearing this from a woman baptized as the 'Black Widow of Vienna', the one whose husband_s_ seem to have a fondness of dying due to very _un_natural causes." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I thought you would be pleased, Miss Krux, to have another name added on your rather short list."

Marguerite's uncanny eyes flashed indignantly, her temper knowing almost no bounds. "This is different," she hissed.

"How so? Do you mean the fact that Lord Roxton was supposed to die _before _he becomes your… fourth or fifth husband, when the others have died _after _you were wed?" Challenger sat down again, his eyes never leaving Marguerite's face. He placed his tobacco on a small ashtray by the table. "If you want, Miss Krux, we could always arrange the events according to your own preference. We could always do it your way, you know. You could kill him after you are wed. Or before. Do it whichever way you want, just make sure that Lord Roxton is going to end up what I want him to be: dead." 

Marguerite was silent for a long while, her face full of contemplation and undisguised loathing for her employer. Then, without any warning, she turned around, her back facing them. She seemed preoccupied at tugging something free from the folds of her silken skirt. When she turned again, her hands were already holding diamonds, money, jewelry. Her payment. Her salary for committing a deed for the _kind sir. Without flinching, she laid it all on the table. "Here," she said, her tone emotionless, unfeeling. "I give it all back, and then some more. Take it, take everything I worked for, just… just let me go. Just let _us_ go."_

Jerome took a step forward. "Marguerite—"

Challenger looked at the riches that were offered willingly to him, then looked at her, his face devoid of any emotion. "I have more than enough wealth, thank you very much. I do not need or want your measly possessions. They are worth nothing to me." He stood up, walked towards her and stopped only when they were almost a breath's away from each other. He continued to speak in a quieter tone. "I do, however, value your word above anything else. And you already gave it to me. Now I demand your compliance, Marguerite Krux. There is nothing more or less to that." He gave something almost akin to a kind smile. "You are free to leave, but do remember, I have _who_ you value the most. Do anything foolish and you can be assured that _she will be promptly taken cared of."_

Marguerite's eyes widened; her mouth fell open to form a silent scream of protest and grave objection. "You can't—" she began to say. "You have no right—"

"Oh, but I _can_, and I _will_, if I please. And as for rights, my beautiful servant—" He ran his finger along the side of her face, and she had to slap his hand away. George just grinned snidely at her, never disconcerted with the outright rejection of his touch. "As for rights, I believe I acquired that when I bought your services from you." He stepped away from her, and continued well until he was almost out of the same room that Marguerite and Jerome were in. "Well now. As much as I love your company, I'm afraid our business here is finished. My assistant will be here any moment now to give you what you need for tomorrow. After that, please let yourselves out; you already know how. Good night, Mrs. Krux, Lord Duncan."

To be continued…

PS. I know, I know, you might be wondering why I chose Challenger to be the 'villain', but there's a reason for this. I promise.__


	8. Eight

**Author's Notes: **Eek! Have you guys watched either 'The Mummy' or 'The Mummy Returns' with Brendan Fraser? Seriously, guys… I feel a calling from the Ardeth Bay and Evelyn Carnahan fic-dom!!!! This is totally taboo since most people are into Rick/Evy fics. I'm totally addicted to reading A/E fics… and, I… um… just realized that this is NOT a TM part so… okay… *nervous giggle* 

Anyways, yes, finally this is THE day, Ladies and Gentlemen. Get ready to par-tay! Woohoo!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to the show.

**Dedication: **Again, I offer this chapter to fab, because I really love the way you think! But I cannot answer your speculations… although you may have given me an idea or two. Like you, I also like to hear what my readers think the story will be heading to… it just won't be fun to make it one-sided all the way, right? :) Thanks :)

And mags968… I'm flattered that you're printing this story. I promise to make it worth your paper and ink!

**Behold the Façade**

_Eight_

He stood by her bed, watching her, drinking in her sight, her smell, her beauty. She lay on her bed, her curls forming a wild mane around her head, her face peaceful yet troubled at the same time. He smiled at the thought; only _she _can pull off an expression that completely contrasted, completely contradicted. And yet, aren't these words an apt description for the woman who could charm and annoy the wits out of the devil himself? Aren't these words the proper way to describe the woman that had completely captured and captivated his heart?

She was a contradiction, yes… bold yet timid, secretive yet open. Seductive and pure, innocent and tainted. She had the power to enslave all men, yet only chose one to become her mate. And _he felt incredibly blessed to be that man._

Lord Roxton stepped towards her, intending to touch her cheek before he went out. He placed one hand on her face, his fingers gently caressing the smooth skin underneath his fingers. She never flinched at his touch, never turned her head away, and he wisely thought that she was too involved in her dreams to even feel it. Regretfully, he took his hand off of her and walked out of her bedroom.

It wasn't yet the dawn of the sun, yet William was already awake. It was almost surprising, really, judging from the fact that he spent less than an hour for sleep to claim him. They had arrived from his party at Jerome's house at around three, and it was barely four-thirty. He went to his bed to let himself rest before the grand day ahead, yet he couldn't close his eyes longer than he could count to thirty. Exasperated, tired beyond his patience to will himself to sleep, William stood up from his bed and carefully went into Marguerite's room. He had no idea how long he had stayed there, how long he had watched her, but clearly when it comes to her, time was of no importance to him. 

He walked alone along the hall outside of the rooms, his thoughts wandering. Truly, the circumstances amuse him to no end. How could one woman completely enchant him so? She was only Marguerite.

And yet wasn't that the answer to his query? She _was Marguerite. That alone should be enough._

"William?" 

Lord Roxton glanced at the source of the voice, surprised to find that he wasn't the only one awake in the very early hours of the morning, and also amazed that he didn't hear the door of his brother's room open at his side. His lips quirked up in a welcoming smile. "John!" He said. "Why are you still up?"

"I could ask you the same thing, William old boy." His older brother said to him, his own lips twisted into a smile as well. Quietly, John closed the door behind him and fell into step with his brother. Together, they made their way to the den.

"Couldn't sleep." William answered him. He went straight towards the bar, found his little bottle of vodka and turned to his brother. "Do you want some?"

John shook his head, his smile widening to a grin. "My, my, Wills – drinking so early, much more at the very day of your wedding? What would mother think of that?"

The younger Roxton poured himself a shot of the alcohol and quickly consumed it, already accustomed to the bitter aftertaste. "She doesn't have to know, unless of course you insist on barging into her room and telling her yourself of this nasty habit of mine."

"I might, you know." The older one said. "But you are forgiven, just this once. It _is _your wedding day."

"Glad to hear that." And they both flashed twin images of smiles to each other.

Silence befell the two men, who, after a lengthy time of separation had seen each other again. There was a bit of apprehension on both sides – so much had happened with the two Lord Roxtons apart – but over all, it is their brotherly love, a bond tightly woven over time, that had served to bridge the gap between the two. 

John stared at his brother. "I suppose there wouldn't be any other time to know more about my sister-to-be, so I might as well ask the groom himself." He paused momentarily. "How did you two meet?"

William laughed. "I suppose that that question nagged at you all night."

"I did try to ask her myself while we were dancing, you know." John straightened himself before he took a seat. "Turned out you'd be marrying quite a fish, slippery and all that. Not that she is a fish and all, just—" he shrugged, "—slippery."

"If that came from any other man, I would've considered it an insult to her, but coming from you, John," William shook his head, "I don't know what to make of it. But anyway, to answer your question—" He took a seat beside John, intend to give every detail of the story, "—Jerome and I, we were touring the countryside in our horses  some while back, maybe three or four months at the most. Then Jerome came up with this magnificent idea. We rode to that isolated place where the 'Standing Stones' stood. He told me he wanted to introduce me to someone." William glanced at his brother, glad to not find him dozing off in his own fairy tale. "I told him to forget about it, because honestly I do not want to meet someone there, of all places, but Jerome insisted. So, we went down of our horses and walked towards the one stone at the side, and lo and behold – there stood the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon in my entire life."

"Marguerite." John said, somewhat lightly, if not dryly.

William smiled. If it was considered manly to gush, he would. "And everything started from there."

John leaned forward in his chair. "Where is she from?"

"She was born in London, though her family seemed to move quite a lot from place to place. She had been to a lot of cities, John – Shanghai, Cairo, New York – even to Vienna, I think. And Paris. She is very fond of traveling, that woman of mine. That's why I'm planning on taking her around the world for our honeymoon."

"Marguerite Krux… is that her full name?" John scratched his chin. "I don't think I've ever heard of that name before…"

"That's because her family only settled here a short time before and after she was born. Marguerite told me her parents took her out of London when she was barely two months old."

"And her parents? Where are they now?"

"They're already gone. She's the only one left."

"No sibling?"

"None. She was the only child." William began to look troubled at the incessant questions.

John then gestured with his hands to clear his intentions. "Do not think that I am asking these questions out of nowhere, William, that… that I am merely pulling these out of a hat. On the contrary, I am simply trying to make a mental imagery of who Marguerite is before she is married to you. I mean, after all, I have no idea of who she is or what she's like—" He shook his head, "—and I still don't think I do, even after what little information you have told me."

"Have I not done the same to your Liezl, John?" William asked him, somewhat boyishly.

John had to suppress the urge to groan. "That was different. She was as flat as a board, that woman – simply no character. But your Marguerite—" He pinned William a stare, "she seems to be a complex creature. Too complex, if you ask me, but—"

"John." William told him. "I appreciate this, truly. Now I know why I've missed you after all the time you spent away from us. Yes, Marguerite is a complex woman. She's more cunning and more devious than anyone I know, me and you included. But she loves me, and I her. It's just as simple as that."

"She makes you happy." John finally said.

William nodded. "She does indeed."

"Then I wish you a long and fruitful life together, brother." The older Roxton reached out to pat his brother's back, his way of giving his blessing.

"Thank you, John."

And outside their home, the sun was slow to rise from its bed, yet when it did it brought with him the most beautiful of mornings. As it's warm rays brightened the land, the brothers both knew of the time that had come to them both.

It was time to prepare for the wedding.

To be continued…


	9. Nine

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the delay… I was busy for a couple of weeks. But anyways, hope you like this chapter, and I hope this is worth the wait! :)

**Disclaimer: **Nothing related to 'The Lost World' belongs to me, though the characters that I have inserted here and there are. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. 

**Dedication: **To wishes! Hope you stick around to read more of this, because there's definitely going to be more. Trust me.

**Behold the Façade**

_Nine_

Ashamed, repulsed, disgusted… Marguerite could barely meet her eyes on her mirror, could barely look at her reflection on it. She was almost afraid to see herself wearing… she almost laughed at the irony… a _white wedding gown. White? On her? The color of innocence, of purity? Of chastity, of cleanliness of soul and body? White? On a woman like _her? _It was ironic, truly. _

She closed her eyes on the bitter thoughts, and then started to turn away from the mirror. It was agony to look at herself, to look at her face, at her body and see another mask, another pretense, another façade. Marguerite was playing another role again, one that would last only until she takes his hand into hers, only until the priest blesses them and unites them in holy matrimony. She lifted her hand and placed on her abdomen, felt the solid metal under the soft silk and satin. It was going to keep her safe, going to keep her alive until she was called to play another role, one that would come after she had fulfilled her role as William Roxton's wife and queen, after her role as George Challenger's puppet and slave.

Marguerite walked towards her bed, her eyes focused on the bouquet and white roses, lilies and daisies that laid over the covers. Her bouquet, her wedding gown… the ensemble, the set was almost complete. Now all she needs was the right attitude, the right expression… the right façade. That of a happy, beautiful, beaming bride. 

It should have been so easy, she thought. A calm, serene look on her face to make herself look expectant, overjoyed, loving? It should have been so easy.

Once upon a time, it was.

But now…

_"A month with the Roxtons and you suddenly develop a conscience?"_

George Challenger's voice was a painful hit to her, his words a sharp slap that sent her spiraling towards reality.

_"…do remember, I have _who_ you value the most. Do anything foolish and you can be assured that she_ will be promptly taken cared of."__

Marguerite bit on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. "Evelyn," she whispered softly, mutely. 

She had become a saint and a sinner, a woman and a whore for this child, this child whom she had vowed to protect. Evelyn Krux was not her child, never her child, but always her daughter. They were not bounded by blood, but they were bounded by love… an emotion that Marguerite never thought she could feel towards any other human being. Never… until that day she found this little girl amidst the sea of strangers; lost, bewildered, alone.

Just like Marguerite was when she was still the Black Widow of Vienna, the woman with a black soul, a burnt heart. She had never known love until her life was touched by the innocent love of a child.

And there was nothing, nothing that Marguerite wouldn't risk, to keep her daughter away from harm's way.

"Marguerite?"

She looked at the door and saw Jerome Duncan standing there, looking tall and handsome in his own suit.

Suit that, like hers, will be splattered with red and blood, tears and dirt…

"Are you ready?" he asked silently, quietly. "It's almost time."  

"I—"

"Oh, look at you, dear!"

Marguerite watched with wide, surprised eyes as the bejeweled Lady Roxton walked into her room, her aged face alighted with a wonderful, beautiful smile. The older woman stopped a few feet away from the bride, her eyes seemingly appraising her daughter-to-be. "Marguerite," she whispered, pride filling her voice. "Oh, Marguerite. Look at you!" Taking the final steps towards the younger one, Lady Roxton bestowed a quick kiss on both Marguerite's cheeks. "My William is so lucky to have you, my dear." She said. "_We are so lucky to finally have you."_

It was all too much. The trust, the love… all the emotions she _didn't _deserve— "Lady Roxton—"

"Hush, daughter." Lady Roxton said in a firm voice. "I will not have any child of mine call me anything but Mother."

_No! _"But Lady—"

"Oh!" Lady Roxton exclaimed. "You're right, dear – I'm sorry. Of course you shouldcall me Mother only _after_ the ceremony is over." The woman gave a hearty laugh. "Forgive me. It's only that I am in too much of a hurry to have you in the family that I… well, that I forgot that you're not yet married to my William."

Marguerite fought the tears, the despair, that suddenly came to her eyes. _Oh, _Mother, _if only you knew what I was paid to do today… She quickly glanced at Jerome and saw that his face expressed a far-away look in them. She could read his face very well. Regret. That was only the word to describe that look on him._

There was no doubt that this woman had been as kind to him as she was now to her. _And her death… _

"But," Lady Roxton intruded, "I am never in any hurry to give you _this._" And with a flourish of her hand, she took off one of her many necklaces, the one with the tiny locket dangling from it. With a smile, she took Marguerite's hand and placed it there.

"Please, Lady Roxton—" Marguerite almost begged as she tried in her hardest to snatch her hand away.

"Shh, Marguerite." Lady Roxton said. She held Marguerite's hand firmly in between both of hers. "This is a family heirloom that has been with us for so many generations now. It was entrusted to me by my Mother, and now I give it to you. It's the symbol of honesty, of trust and of love." She tightened her hold. "Guard it well. Protect it well. And someday… you too, will have the chance of giving this to _your own daughter." _

_Honesty, trust, love. _The irony wasn't lost on her. Marguerite looked down on their entwined hands, not knowing how to contain her guilt, her anger, her emotions. But somehow, she did. Somehow, she hid the truth behind her expression of gratitude. "I- I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Say 'thank you', my dear. And then all is well."

Marguerite then threw her arms over the older woman, her hug brief but fierce. "Thank you." _I'm so sorry._

"Mother!"

Both women drew apart as they heard the voice of Lord John Roxton. He entered Marguerite's room, looking also tall and handsome, as well as noble and distinguished. He first regarded Jerome with a brief nod before he looked at his mother. "Mother, we have to go." He said.

"Of course, of course." As though she couldn't help it, she looked at Marguerite again. "Look at her, John. Doesn't she look beautiful?"

Marguerite dared to raise her eyes to look at William's older brother, felt another tug at her heart as she thought, _another casualty…_

But John was looking at her appreciatively, the man in him admiring the woman he had found in her. "Beautiful," he said casually, if not forcefully, "does not quite cover it, Mother." 

"I know." Lady Roxton said. "My William is so fortunate."

"Indeed," came the dry tone of John's voice. "Well now, I suppose it is our time to leave." John took his mother's hand and guided her outside Marguerite's room. But before he closed the door, he looked at her, briefly smiled and said, "Good luck." And then, the door was closed, and their footsteps echoed away.

That left Jerome and her alone in the room.

"Are you ready?" he questioned her again.

"No," she answered him, the locket in her palm still warm from Lady Roxton's skin, still warm from Lord Roxton's stare. "I'm not. But it's not like I have any other choice."

"No," he affirmed her words, "you don't." Jerome hesitated at first, before he said, "I'm sorry."

She began to walk towards the door. "Never for me, Jerome. But be sorry… for _them." _And for Evelyn.__

As Marguerite walked towards the grand car that was to take her to the chapel, she had too much things on her mind to even notice the grandeur of her surroundings. It was unfortunate, for it was _the_ most beautiful of mornings, as the sun had chosen to rise up early from its bed to shine upon the vast lands of London. It was a beautiful day for celebrations, festivities, unions. Weddings.

Today was her wedding day.

Today was her day to execute George Challenger's gruesome plan of revenge on the poor, unsuspecting Lord.

To be continued…


	10. Ten

**Author's Notes: **I'm very proud to say that I am a **College Scholar **this semester!!! YAY!!! My gosh, all those hellish weeks have finally paid off! I knew that inspiration coming from M/R has some great rewards!!! YESSSSS!!! Woohoo!!! I would just like to say a big **THANK YOU **to those who review and keep reviewing my little tidbits… all your words have inspired me to try and become a better writer (and a better student!) Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! *does a little shimmy*

And, yes, after stringing this out for sooo long, (9 chapters for two short days? Yikes!) This is finally it. The Wedding. I tell you, this IS the day you've all been waiting for! 

Dedications, as well as little notes for those who reviewed the last chapter, are at the very bottom :)

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Ten_

The chapel was simplistically, beautifully decorated, rightfully befitting a Lord about to marry a Lady. 

The humble walls were decorated with white draperies, where at the very top rested bouquets of fragrant roses, lilies and daisies. From the doors of the altar to the very first step of the stairs leading to entrance of the chapel ran a bright red carpet, its hue mixed and accented with a number of deliberately scattered white and pink petals. More flowers are to be found beside the carpet, numerous bouquets that also ran in the same direction that the lengthy material took. Long, thin chains of gold served to bind the flowers together, and also served to display some sort of affluence against the backdrop of nature and simple beauty. 

The chapel was small, and could only contain about twenty to thirty individuals at the most in a single occasion. Such a small number compared to the numerous friends and acquaintances of the Roxton family, but this setting was chosen to serve the very purpose of limiting the number of the people to be invited. To Lord William Roxton, such a blessed and holy event should only be witnessed by those people who are close to their family's hearts, and not some public and scandalous event that would later on be dissected and discussed by society. 

Those fortunate enough to be considered as friends gathered at the entrance of the chapel, waiting patiently for the arrival of the groom and the bride. Just before the clock read eight in the morning, an automobile pulled before them and from it came the Lady Roxton and her two sons. These guests smiled their welcomes to the groom, alternating from patting his back to shaking his hand to kissing his cheek. The mother looked on in quiet contentment; the brother looked on in quiet impatience. 

William nodded and grinned as Countess Hilda Crant patted his hand. "Such a fine young man as yourself deserve happiness," she said pleasantly, a woman fond of the young boy she had read countless stories to before this day. "I wish you luck, William."

"Thank you, Aunt Hilda."

"My boy," Baron Richard Antel told him as he clasped William's hands in between his, a man fond of the young boy he had taught to ride horses, "congratulations."

"Thank you, Rick."

"William."

He turned around when he heard his name and felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. "John?"

The older Roxton just shrugged. "Sorry," he said thoughtlessly. "I just thought— never mind." He then walked away, leaving the younger Roxton shaking his head at his irrational acts. 

William accepted several more pats and shakes, and even more smiles from his guests, but he cannot help but be impatient himself as he waited for Marguerite. Some form of fear, though he considered it illogical and foolish, not to mention unnecessary, it still entered his brain: what if Marguerite decided at the very last moment to change her mind? What if she chose to leave him, to desert him? What if she decided to–

Perhaps because of a mother's intuition, or perhaps due to the unfitting worry that fleeted across her son's face, Lady Roxton stepped forward and gently touched his cheek. "Do not fear, my darling." She said softly, lovingly. "She will come."

And, as if her prophecy came true, the grand car that carried the bride and her escort arrived, much to the delight of the guests and the groom himself. 

Lord William Roxton smiled. "At last," he whispered to himself, relief and happiness tainting his voice

The time has finally come.

*

John Roxton grunted an animalistic sound that came so easily from his lips. He felt the pockets of his suit for a cigar, but found to his utter dismay that he has none. "Damn it," he swore softly as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

He had been uneasy and restless this morning, a very eerie feeling that haunted and plagued him from the moment he entered the chapel. He recognized the signs; he was being told to run, to hide, to get into safety in the soonest possible time. His instincts were trying to warn him, tell him of something, but what? What could possibly go wrong today? John turned around and noted the simple decorations of the chapel, the few guests, his happy brother. This wedding was meant to be a solemn union between Marguerite and William. There's absolutely nothing that could go wrong today. He need not fear.

He need not fear.

But why was he still feeling troubled? Why was it that he feels as though if this wedding was to continue… if this wedding was to happen, something horrible was about to come?

Dread filled his being, a feeling so foreign and frighteningly strong that John just had to shake his head, as if trying to shake his fears away. 

He had never ignored his instincts, never even in that moment it told him that this Marguerite was nothing but some sort of devil in disguise. He had learned that his instincts were never wrong; nothing good will ever come out of ignoring it.

But this time, he will.

He need not fear, John repeated to himself. He need not fear.

The slight cheering in the crowd caught his attention, and before he knew it he saw the bridal car, saw the bride herself come out from it, as well as her escort and giver. The guests were ushered to go to their designated places for the bridal entourage was now ready to commence.

John himself was ushered into his own seat, but before he entered the chapel he thought he saw a flash of red hair just behind the big elm tree that stood beside the church. 

Shaking his head yet again as he dismissed it quite easily, he began to walk inside. But before he could take his first step, his eyes, as though it had a will of its own, traveled freely until it rested on a certain brunette. He stared at her, unwilling to take his gaze off of her, uncaring of the stares that he got at the act.

He stared at her, unwilling, uncaring… just so because she was staring at him as well.

*

George Challenger, clad in a black suit with his bright red hair glinting in the sun, stood behind the big elm tree, wanting, waiting… anticipating.

A smile appeared on his face, an act that looked so foreign on a person that hid such a cruel streak… such a cruel intention. 

"At last," he murmured to himself, pleased beyond words about what will happen in the next few minutes. 

_Liezl__, he thought morosely, a sad ache momentarily replacing his mirth. _Daughter, do not fear… you will be avenged.__

He looked down and met the sorrowful blue gaze of Evelyn Krux. He squeezed her little hand, the hand that he held between his, and said to her softly, lovingly…

"The time has finally come."

To be continued…

**Dedications: **this chapter is dedicated **to my great, great, greeeeaaaaaaaatttttt reviewers:**

**Michi**** – oh, I understand the frustration and the clinging altogether… that's what keeping me alive as well. *grunts* just tell us already! There's really no need for them to slowly torture us with all the suspense, right? *grin* thank you for the review, truly!**

**Fab**** – my dear fab, I would really love to answer your queries, but alas that would kill the whole stor(y/ies) wouldn't it? Patience, my dear, that's what I ask of you :)**

**A. Windsor – **I _like keeping you guessing, though I would like to hear what your guesses are… ;) care to share it with me? Please? _

**Wishes – **I will be elaborating the whole Evelyn Krux thing later in the coming chapters :) Thank you for sticking around to review! 

**TLWROX – **I keep doing that to your poor heart… and I like it every time I did it *devilish grin* MUAHAHAHAHA ;) Oh TLWROX… you don't know just how much I missed your reviews! I hope you don't faint, though… I don't have anything with me to bring you to the hospital! Just… just breathe! Breathe!

**AerinBrown**** – I know! I know! The wedding thing has been indefinitely postponed… *blushes* but thank you for the review!**

**Veggie5 - *shrieks* **You're still alive!!! You're still alive!!! Don't you DARE disappear like that again, veggie5… ever!!! Or else I swear I will haunt your every dream! 'Ya hear me? Huh? Huh?! Eck, stupid work. I know the feeling, I am now on my internship and, yes… stupid, stupid work! Keeps us out of too many things, like our TLW life!!! But still, I'm very happy you're back, and doubly happy coz you posted your latest and sadly the last chapter!! After leaving us in the air for so long…!!! Okay, confused emotions much, but that just tells you how much I missed your reviews and how much I missed you… oh-kay, this reply thing is getting too emotional… better stop right now… *grin* 

**Stephie35801 – **I hope that M/R get married too, and I am doubly hoping that they do it in an actual fourth season episode! Thankies for the review!

**Mags968 – **I'm really glad you liked that heirloom scene ;) it's a pleasure to know that you love this little fic of mine, thanks a bunch!

**Beckers – **I live to intrigue y'all ;) thanks for reading and reviewing, really means a lot to me :)

**Gilly**** – Thanks for the review, Gilly. Believe me, I am hurrying… I am hurrying… **

**Smiley – **Oh, how I wish I could just set aside all the other (unimportant) aspects in my life, but annoying little buggers, they always… well… bug me! But yes, thank you for the mantra, it helped me while I was doing this chapter ;)

**Maloal**** – Oh, you scared me there!!!! But thank you for choosing to stick around, though only God knows where I'm taking this! Hehe ;0**

**Mistycara**** – Thanks, cara. I really appreciate your reviews ;)**

Until the next chapter, people! Now please click that little button below and make me happy ;)


	11. Eleven

**Author's Notes: **Okay, I think I will be kind enough (for once! ;) ) to post (quite) a lengthy chapter today. As much as I'd love to leave another cliffhanger, I'm pretty sure TLWROX will have my head for that… and mind you I do like to keep my head on! *wink, wink* Anyways, remember, this is a one-time deal only!!!

And one woohoo! for the return of the board! You just can't imagine what trauma I had to go through when I tried to access it and I got a 'Please note the Lost World Message Board will be down for a few days while we move servers' note, I very nearly screamed!!! Anyways, yes, doing the happy dance again for the return of the board. Hoo-ray!

WAIT!!! Just before you read, I want you all to know that I love the fact that you're reading (and hopefully reviewing) this. The thoughtfulness of those who do touches my heart beyond words… thankies! Personal notes are, again, at the very bottom :) Special people like you guys deserve special space… mushy much?!

Strap your seatbelts on, people… so you won't fall as you sit at the edges of your seats! LOL!!! 

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to 'The Lost World'. No infringement is intended, no profits are made.

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Eleven_

"I'm sorry."

Marguerite turned her head towards the one who spoke, her eyes meeting his through the mirror that hung before him. They were still inside the car and still more than a few meters away from the church. "I told you, Jerome—"

But he only shook his head and dismissed her words. "No, no, you don't understand. I—" He paused, seemingly unsure of what to say next. Marguerite wondered in the few seconds that he was silent where in the world was the confident, brazen spitfire that was Jerome Duncan? Where was the 'untypical radical'? The man before her was suddenly lost, afraid… she could see it in the dejected slump of his shoulder, the tired lines around his eyes. Was he having second thoughts about this as well?

All these thoughts of hers, all these hopes, were lost when he continued. "I'm sorry for bringing you into this, Marguerite." He said. "I should never have hired you. I should've gotten someone else."

Marguerite glanced away and affixed her stare at her bouquet. "I know what I was getting into when you paid me," she stated, her tone almost detached. "I was paid to do Challenger's bidding, remember? And if this was his wish…" she exhaled sharply, "so be it. I was paid. Now I will perform. That's all there is to it."

Jerome continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "I'm sorry… for Evelyn." His voice was soft, but in the ominous silence in the car the words were almost deafening. 

_You should be! _Her heart screamed. But she said neither a word or breathed a syllable in response. 

"But I'm not sorry for what's going to happen to them. To _him_." 

There was something in his voice that made her look at him again, something that forced her to meet his eyes for a second time. Steel, loathing, anger… all these infused themselves in the cold tremor in his tone, in the dangerous flash in his eyes. "He's your friend, Jerome." She told him softly, almost accusingly. "Your friend might die today, and you're not sorry for that?"

The young Lord seemed to bear the weight of the world on both his shoulders as they further slumped. "William is just…" he paused again. Then the steel, the anger returned, brushing away all semblance of emotion except hate. Resignation. Acceptance. "He's a necessary casualty to all of this. He's the key to this plan's success… his death is important. He _needs_ to die."

"All for the sake of revenge." Was there an insinuating tilt in her voice when she said that? "You could choose to not do this, Jerome. We can save Jerome; we can save them all from Challenger! All we have to do is--"

"Oh, but I choose to do this, Marguerite! Revenge is the only thing I _can do! The only way I can make Lord __John Roxton—" was there a sneer when he mentioned his name? "—pay for what he had done." _

"And what did he do, anyway?" Marguerite finally demanded from him. In any other normal circumstance, she wouldn't dare question the need or the reason for her action, just the way to do it. Always ask the _how_, never ask the _why_. 

But this… this was beyond normal.

This was beyond normal, because in this… _she actually cared enough to ask. _

She was almost sure that her question was going to go unanswered, when she heard him speak. 

"She was my love." Jerome declared quietly. 

Marguerite frowned, not understanding what he was saying.

"Liezl… she was my betrothed. We were to marry, but John… he stole her from me. She fell in love with him." A dry, calloused laugh escaped from his lips as he continued. "And as if losing her love to someone like him wasn't enough! He killed her, Marguerite. Do you understand that?" 

Jerome never turned towards her, but she could almost picture the pain in his face when he spoke, because she could definitely hear it in his voice, because she could see it in his eyes.

"John killed Liezl, Marguerite. Drove her to her own death. Sir Challenger is right… her father is right. A life for a life is definitely a more worthy credo. John took _her_ away from _us_… now we're going to take _William away from __him." At that, Jerome finally turned to pin her with a frighteningly serious stare. "William needs to die. That's all there is to it."_

The chapel suddenly loomed before them, its presence halting any more conversations, and before he or she could speak they were already pulling to a halt in front of it. 

Marguerite winced at the sight of the people, with their smiles, their laughter… so innocent… so frighteningly _innocent_ they were, so completely clueless on what was going to happen. The guilt she suddenly felt was almost overwhelming… can she, _should _she actually go through this?

_The lives of these people… or the life of her daughter?_

Before she could take another breath, Jerome spoke again. Quietly, seriously. Deathly threatening. "If you want to see your daughter again, Marguerite, then I suggest that you do not as much as think of not doing this. Speak about this to anyone and you are sure to never see her again."  And at that he stepped out of the car.

Then Jerome appeared at the side and opened the door for her; he offered his hand, his handsome face already twisted into a beautiful smile… where was the man who had so coldly threatened her with her daughter's death? Where was the man who had spoken with so much pain, so much hate? 

"Marguerite, the time has come." He said, his smile ever so sickeningly charming.

Expertly masking her newly-founded hate towards him, Marguerite accepted his hand and climbed down the car, her face already wearing a happy expression, that of a beaming bride. 

She saw a lot of eyes study her, watch her; did they or did they not like what they saw, she did not know. All she knew was that when she met William's eyes she saw approval; when she met Lady Roxton's gaze she saw acceptance. 

She glanced at Jerome's eyes and she saw death.

Quickly pulling her hand from his hold, Marguerite turned around for she felt the urge to escape even for only a second. Her eyes wandered around, and for a moment a flash of red hair behind the elm tree caught her gaze. She almost froze. 

_So_, Marguerite thought as her lips parted again into a wide, forced smile, _Challenger's here._ To check on her, to see that she will indeed fulfill her half of the bargain? Or perhaps, to see firsthand the demise of the Lord? To gloat that his desire for revenge has finally been satiated?

Perhaps one, or two, or quite possibly all of the reasons mentioned were true. But would the reason really matter? As long as she does what she was supposed to, then all will turn out the way they should be. 

Just as Jerome had chosen to forsake the lives of everyone for his revenge, she had also chosen to forsake their lives for her daughter.

It wasn't the first time that greed, that selfishness won over the good of all. 

The guests were already being ushered into their seats, and those with roles to fulfill were already told to occupy their places. She herself was told to stand at the very entrance of the chapel, the place where the bride should be at the very beginning of the ceremony. 

As the eager guests rushed into the chapel, Marguerite noticed that one man was left outside, seemingly too involved in his own thoughts to even care about the world.

_Lord John Roxton, _she thought, her eyes affixed on him, _have you any knowledge that this… all these deaths are also yours to bear? That this wedding, this disaster wouldn't have to happen if it weren't for your own foolishness? _

And, as if feeling her eyes on him, he turned towards her, met her stare with one of his own. 

As they stared at one another, their eyes dueling, mocking each other, one thought entered her brain. This one thought, irrational it may be tugged at her, teased her with its possibilities, taunted her with its promises.

_Tell him! _

Could she?

_Tell him! He might be able to do something to help! He's the one responsible for this, anyway!_

But before she could move her feet towards him, she saw Jerome approach John and practically drag him into the chapel. The older Roxton offered no resistance, but he did give her a parting nod. Jerome, however, was another story. He glared at her, his burning eyes telling her that he knew what she was thinking.

Marguerite felt disappointed at having lost her final chance, her final hope. Now, there was truly nothing left to do except what she was paid to do. It was time for her to perform, to start the dance of death that would be the last thing these people would ever see.

And before long, the wedding march started, and soon the procession began.

Fear, a feeling so unfamiliar and frightening to her, began to grab at Marguerite's heart as she took her first step. 

*

"Where's Mother?" 

Challenger looked down and met the blue gaze of the child that he brought with him. He told her, not unkindly of course, "She's… away for the moment. But don't you worry," he tapped her little nose, "She'll be back for you soon. Such a beautiful child like you won't just be abandoned, you know."

Evelyn nodded, and then looked ahead of her. "That's a pretty church." She said, her voice childish and light, normal to all five year-old little girls like her. 

"It is, isn't it?" Challenger mused as he squeezed her hand. He took note of the ornaments that decorated the place. He pointed at one and asked, "Do you like the flowers?"

She nodded again as a smile graced her lips. The flowers have already attracted her attention long before he had pointed it out for her. "Oh, yes. They're pretty, too. I like them very much."

Then, the older man kneeled in front of her until their eyes were staring into one another. "Tell me, Evelyn. Do you like fireworks?"

"Why? Are there going to be any fireworks today, Uncle George?"

George Challenger then stood up and faced the church again. "Yes. There's going to be a huge fireworks display today, Evelyn. I'm sure you're going to like it."

Evelyn looked up at him, and then at the church. She grinned. "I can't wait."              

*                                 

John repressed the urge to grunt at Jerome as he was 'shown' his place inside the chapel. "Thank you," he croaked out as the younger man deposited him in his seat, his position as far away from the altar as it was possible. When he noticed that fact, he called him. "Wait. I'm the brother of the groom… shouldn't I be… oh, I don't know, _near _where they are?"

Jerome just patted his back. "I'm sorry, John, but this wedding has been arranged long before you arrived. Everybody's now in their proper places. Believe me, if I could have my way I would've placed you in the middle row, near the aisle, so you could see everything from there, but…" he shook his head. "this is the only place available for you. I'm truly, terribly sorry."

John shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess this is what I get for dropping by unannounced." He said with a wry grin. Then he gestured at the altar with a nod of his head. "Go now, Jerome. You should take your position as the best man."

Before the younger lord left, he turned to him and said, "I am glad that you're here, John. Truly glad."

The older Roxton wasn't quite sure what to make of what the best man said…

… just as he wasn't sure what to make of the fact that he caught the bride staring quite fervently at him earlier. 

He looked at the entrance of the chapel, just in time to see Marguerite began her walk towards the altar. Her steps were deliberately slow, her face uncharacteristically ashen. John's brows knitted closely together in concern, then chided himself for such an overly reaction. _For God's sake, John! He scolded himself. __There's no need to be quite the melodramatic! She's not even your wife for you to worry over her like that! _

Despite his inner thoughts, John continued to watch Marguerite like a hawk; his sharp eyes noticing every little detail. He feasted on the sight of her body; she was truly a sight to behold. The gown was fitted only for her; it matched every curve, every slope of her body. But there was something… odd… about the way it hugged her waist, as though whatever she was wearing _beneath the gown was—_

Then, all his thoughts halted when she stopped her procession, and stood as still as statue at the middle of the chapel. 

Confusion reigned among the guests, and they were all wondering…

_What in the world is she doing?_

*

Challenger checked his watch, then smiled to himself. "It's time." He muttered. He kneeled down in front of Evelyn again. "Evelyn, would you like to see the fireworks now?" He asked her.

The child eagerly nodded. "Oh, yes Uncle George, I'd like to very much."

"Good. Now," He took out a small switch from his pocket and handed it to her. George pointed at the black button at the center. "I want you to press this down for me, okay? That way the fireworks will start."

Evelyn took the gadget from his hands and looked at him, delighted that he was trusting her to do this big a role. When he nodded, she pressed the button firmly…

… and in an instant the small chapel was engulfed in flames, the result of an explosion from within it. 

To be continued…

Well, I'd say compared to the other chapters, this one is quite longer… :)

**To those who reviewed Chapter 10:**

**Smiley – **you were out of town and you dare forget to bring a present for me? *pouts* hmph, hmph. But, oh well… I guess the review did make for the lack of a certain gift for me… I sure could use a night with Roxton or two… *eep!!! Dirty mind alert!* heeheee :) And please, feel free to bug me all you want! But seriously, I am the one who feel privileged because of your reviews… thank you very much!

**Mags968 – **Hope you have some sort of parachute with you… *grin* Anyways, sorry, dear… can't send Roxton for you because, well… I have him chained somewhere around the house, and I absolutely will NOT share!!! I'm selfish (not to mention delusional!), I know… *weg*

**Michi****- That's great, great news! Well, we certainly DESERVE some sort of treat for a job very well done. I hope you do fine when you go to college… no, scratch that, I KNOW you'll do fine!!! It's a pretty exciting world out there, so better prepare. Anyways, thank you for the lovely review!**

**AerinBrown**** – I'm _the mistress of pain… heh, that's me, EVIL with a capital EVIL… *weg* And, yes, Challenger does make a scary villain, doesn't he? I just watched 'The Elixir' yesterday and, well… he's pretty yummy when he's evil. But is he insane? Quite. Insane with thirst for revenge… *spoiler!* Anyways, thankies for the review!  _**

**Beckers – **No, I really don't want to be the source of your migraine… though I am known to be the source of other people's headaches as well (just ask TLWROX!) hehehe… thank you for the review!!! 

**TLWROX – **What can I say? I LIKE torturing people. It's my gift. It's my curse…. *insert evil laughter here* thanks for the review, hon. You do know I always enjoy reading your reviews, right? ;p

**A. Windsor – **thank you for the complement for the last chapter ;) I admit, I am a bit known to throw people off course several _hundred times… but the question is, are you enjoying this joy ride? *crosses fingers* I REALLY hope so! _

**Veggie5 – **Ah-hah! So you admit it, you've been too busy you've neglected all your TLW friends… *wipes a tear* but yes, sad as it is I understand you completely. Really, I do! Anyways, thanks for the congratulations. Actually I do enjoy my experience as a 'working-without-pay' girl… ;) Speaking of working, are you writing your next fic, missy? Huh? I DEMAND that you post another one at once! Just so because I'm greedy and all that ;)

**Cara – **Shameless as I am to admit it, yessss…. I was born to torment and torture… *wink, wink* hehe. And you've become addicted to this story? That makes me sooo happy… really! Anyways, thanks for replying to my post at the board! That's so sweet of you :)

**Wishes – **I know what you mean… I always like the bad guys' role, too, because personally I think fulfilling the role is more satisfying.. hehe :) ;) And I just can't resist making Challenger the bad guy… in an AU story, practically anything is possible … Anyways, thanks for the review!


	12. Twelve

**Author's Notes: ***Huge, huge grin* thank you thank you, thank you! Oh, did I forget to say 'thank you'? hehe. Anyways, you know the drill. The more personal 'thankies' are at the bottom. I'm also very, very sorry at the same time for not posting this earlier… there was a huge storm that hit our country this week and all lines were down… :(

My gawd! I just enrolled this morning and my schedule is definitely the worst since ever! Oh, well… I guess we each have a burden to carry, right? Plus I have all you guys to tell it to, so… catharsis much? Hmm. 

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to 'The Lost World' except the characters of Jerome Duncan, Evelyn Krux and Liezl Challenger. No infringement is intended, no profits are made.

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Twelve_

Lord John Roxton blinked his eyes, his consciousness very slowly returning to him. The obscurity that once surrounded him gradually gave way to the blinding brightness of the morning, and with the coming of his awareness came the memories that it brought forth with it. As he unsteadily rose to his unsteady feet, these memories of what happened earlier came back to him, haunting and terrifying and terribly confusing. 

He remembered staring at Marguerite, at her very still, very silent form, his thoughts echoing the questions that came from the mouths of the guests. Muted questions of 'What's wrong?' and 'What is she doing?' and 'Why did she stop?' seemed to fly and surround his ears, questions that seemed would never be answered as the bride, the only one capable of answering them, remained unmoving, still, silent. 

Then came the uproar that seemed to engulf the chapel in a matter of moments as the questions weren't only whispered but loudly voiced.  

He remembered darting a glance at the groom, only to find his brother's face already reflecting the confusion and alarm he knew was also on his. William stepped towards his bride-to-be, his clear intention to go to her blocked only when Jerome placed a hard, restraining hand on his arm. 

"Marguerite, dear, what's wrong?" came the voice of his mother, her voice thick with uncertainty. She rose to her feet, along with dozens of the guests that couldn't seem to contain themselves any longer.

He remembered looking at Marguerite again, and now he found her face contorted with mixed feelings, melded emotions he cannot decipher. Only when tears began to run on her cheeks did he begin to rise on his feet. 

"Marguerite?" John's voice was soft and lost amidst the tumult that was slowly intensifying to a burning echo. 

_And then the burning echo _actually_ happened._

At first it was a soft wheezing sound that came from the very middle of the chapel, very close to where Marguerite, Jerome and William were. And, as though showing its displeasure at having been ignored so easily, the wheezing sound slowly swelled until it was soft no more. It became a deafening crescendo of screaming and roaring, and soon these sounds were accompanied with sights. For what seemed like a moment trapped in eternity, the whole interior of the chapel disappeared, only to be replaced by a blinding and shimmering white light. Then it wasn't merely a combination of sounds and sights. With the screaming and shimmering came the scorching hot of the fire as it licked and embraced everyone on its path, the flames eager to show the passion of its warmth and the intensity of its heat.  

For one moment, John was stuck at the middle of it all, his eyes widening at the sight, sound and feel of the beginnings of the fire. Then at the next moment he was flying through the air, flying, floating, until his back collided with the hard cement and his head cushioned on the concrete floor. 

Lord John Roxton wasn't quite sure how much time has lapsed, how much time has passed from the moment he lost his consciousness to the moment he regained it. 

But now, that knowledge wasn't what was important, for the things that nagged him now, the thoughts that he deemed most important of all were the thoughts that urged his unsteady feet to take unsteady steps towards the chapel. Either this act was done foolishly or heroically he didn't know, for he didn't bother to even weigh his actions. He just moved and soon he stepped inside the church. 

_Mother! William! _

_Marguerite!_

Surprisingly, astoundingly, the church wasn't burning now. Just bits and pieces of flames and flares, just soot and ash and dying embers that colored the white paint and tapestries black. 

Just the sight of burning wood, just the smell of burning flesh.

He covered his mouth and nose with his arm, for the stench was sickeningly overpowering and continuously invading his senses. John almost gagged, but amazingly he kept himself from doing it. 

His eyes watered instantly, not only from the amount of smoke but also from the sight that assaulted his eyes.

A dozen or so bodies littered the floor of the church, their haphazard positions never indicating whether they died instantly or with prolonged agony. John couldn't see their faces, couldn't identify their bodies, for their faces were horribly burnt beyond recognition, for their clothes were delicately infused with their blackened flesh. 

He was praying now, fervently praying that his mother, his brother and his Marguerite were not among these unfortunate ones, that they have not met the fate that these ones had.

Sounds began to call to him, moans and sighs and whispers of help waiting to be received. Be it through his own intercession or the answer to his prayers he didn't know, but soon help did come, for the warning horns and sounds of ambulances began to hum at the distance and soon these hands was very near where he was. Soon his hands weren't the only ones searching beneath all the rubble and fallen wood for the surviving, and soon the surviving weren't the only ones rummaged for beneath all the dirt.

"Mother! William! Where—" John took a shaking, shuddering breath, "—where are you? _Marguerite!" His voice echoed dramatically in the eerie silence_

"John!" 

He straightened immediately, forgetting his bruised back, as he heard and _recognized_ the masculine voice. He turned around, and to his disappointment he saw Jerome rushing towards him. "Jerome," he said in a raspy voice, "Where's Mother? William? Marguerite?"

Jerome regarded him with sorrowful eyes. "Lady Roxton and Marguerite are being rushed to the hospital as we speak. But John—" he paused.

The older Lord prodded him on.

"We haven't seen William yet," the younger one finished, his voice bordering on tears and near panic. 

John took a step back. "Then we have to find him," he stated easily. 

Then he turned around to start what he had said.

*

Time lapsed again. John was tired and hurt, but still he and some other ones continued their search. He had declined offers of treatment on his wounds, claiming that he was alright or simply ignoring those who asked, until he was asked no longer.

His face was contorted into a sad stillness that was almost alarming in its intensity. He began to walk towards the altar, the last place where he was to look at, when he heard it. A voice so soft and lost it was almost unheard, yet the sound did not escape his sharp hunter's hearing and soon John was rushing towards the source, hope filling him so completely it almost broke his heart. 

And then, behind the altar of broken relics, there lay his brother in an entanglement of limbs and blood.

But he was still alive. That was all that mattered.

"William," John whispered in a broken voice. 

"J-John?" 

"William," John said again as he stepped closer to his brother. William had several cuts and bruises, but there was also a terrifying amount of red, blistered skin covering his hands and face. The sight of him, so vulnerable, so weakened, terrified John more than anything else in his life. "Somebody help us!" he screamed to the others.

Footsteps echoed behind him and when he turned he saw Jerome standing there, looking at William with wide, agonized eyes. Then there were other people who rushed in and then his brother was so softly and gently lifted off his bed of charcoal and into a stretcher.

"William," the older Roxton muttered as he walked beside the carried stretcher, "you're going to be fine." He said.

"John," His brother said, so softly that others will have surely missed it, "where's Marguerite?"

"She's fine." John answered immediately, conviction filling his tone. "We all are going to be alright." He then watched as the stretcher was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The doors were closed, and soon the ambulance was on its way to the hospital as well. 

With his duty done and the people important to him found and alive, John allowed the nagging obscurity to swallow him again as he collapsed in an ungraceful heap.

To be continued…

**To those who reviewed Chapter 11:**

**KatAnn**** – You're reading this! *does her infamous happy dance* Yay, yay, yay! Anyways, I know you don't want me to answer your question but I will, anyway ;) YES, I do enjoy tormenting you. I'm the TORMENTINATOR!!! *coughs* oh-kay, I so cannot believe I just wrote that… *clears throat* Ahem. I'm really pleased you haven't forgotten COTB… let's see. After I finish this one, I'll work through the issues on that story and I'll see what I can do. But KatAnn… I'm really, really sorry, but I'm not guaranteeing anything as of the moment. Please forgive me *insert sad puppy eyes here* However, do you want to receive my spoilers for that story? I wrote the main points for each chapter, but because of the three main plot leaks I discovered, I got discouraged… *crosses fingers* maybe you can help me smoothen those out? Pretty please? **

**A. Windsor – **Haven't I told you yet? I'm one sick little girl with a demented mind and a heart of pure evil. The aura of evilness is radiating off me in waves… ahem. You've caught me in my weirdest moment… heehee :) So glad you're enjoying this! You have no idea how much I appreciate your review, so thanks! 

**LadySammyMRoxton**** – You reviewed! You reviewed! *does another of her happy dances* Anyways, thank you very much for the lovely comment. I really, really appreciate this… I hope you'll stick around for more! :)**

**Wishes – **Oh, you scared me! Thank God you're okay now! Anyways, thanks for the encouraging words… there's nothing better than a reader having difficulty in their breathing to tell the writer that she's doing a bang up job. Wasn't that a mouthful? Hehe, anyways, thank you again!

**Ariadne**** – You have no idea how happy I am that you are reading this story of mine… thanks! And, yes, to answer your (semi) question… Challenger is the bad guy in this because his daughter, Liezl, was killed by John. Now to get his revenge, he and Jerome (Liezl's betrothed) hired Marguerite to kill William on their wedding day. That's basically the 'it' in this story, though there'll be a lot of other twists to it :) Hope this helps! And hope to read more of you in the future!**

**Fab**** - *squeals* Fab! You're back! Yay! I've missed you, buddy! Anyways, thank you for the review :)**

**Cara – **Ohhh!!! Me, wicked? Hmm… I like that term… Zarah the wicked one…heehee! Yes, I know this is pure torture. What can I say? I like torturing other people… it's what I do best… LOL! Anyways, thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them! ;)

**Michi**** – Thanks for the review! Glad to know you like it and that you think I am mean. I'm flattered… ;) Just curious, have you chosen your school yet? What's your course? Oh, I'm really hoping you'd have the best of luck, Michi ;) I'm now on my last year in college (Yes, I'm graduating this '04 summer) and I can say that college was THE best time of my life (not and never high school!!!). Please know that I am crossing my fingers for you :) **

**Gilly**** – Thanks for the review! I really, really appreciate it :) You know I love it when you drop by, so don't be a stranger again, okay? ;)**

**Smiley -  *stomps feet* Oh, but SMILEY!!! *whines* that's the request I really, really want to have… but… oh, fine. Let's see. I could use another laptop… ;) Okay, too expensive. Same goes for the beach house I want in Malibu. Hmmm…. how about… *thinks* I know! I want a review from you on this! Pretty, pretty please? With Roxton on top?  And yay for the extra poke… I needed that! ;)**

**Maloal**** – Me, very bad. But me, very like your review! So thanks a lot! ;)**

**Mags**** 968 - *blushes* thank you very much for the praises, hon! It means so much to me that you think this story is great ;) Anyways, you ask who Jerome is? Well, in a nutshell, Jerome Duncan is the best friend of William (and his best man), but for the sake of his revenge (because of Liezl's, his betrothed's, death in the hands of John Roxton), Jerome is willing to let William die as he schemed with Challenger. In his words, 'a life for a life', so William for Liezl. Twisted man, isn't he? Well, we can't blame him, but we can very well blame the one who made him. Eep, that's me! Anyways, thank you again!**

**Sash – **Hey! Welcome to my delusional world. I haven't seen you around before but I welcome you with open arms and a hearty 'thank you!' for leaving me with your review. So thanks! Again! ;)

**Veggie5 - ***sighs unhappily* that's me, girl-without-pay. It is quite shocking, isn't it? Anyways, this is quite normal for me because the 'work' experience is part of our academic school year – OJT or on-the-job training or the more frequent 'internship'. Most third year college people like me have to dedicate 200 hours of their summer vacation *whimper* to work for a company of their choice. The money side of this is quite, you know, absent, because it's like we give them our time in return for their agreeing to let us work for them. Kinda twisted, huh? But hey, whoever said that _they got the better deal, anyways? I spent most of that 200 hours checking out ff.net and other net thingies that I usually have no other time for other things, should I mention that I had no time to do what they want me to do? Mwahahaha. But, HEY!!! What is this doubt I read from ya'? Girl, you better NOT doubt your own ability to write. Just check out the humongous response to your 'Mismatch'. I'm telling you, your next one will surely get the same number of response (if not bigger!) So write, write, write! And I pray that your professors, those sad little things, will let my favorite veggie in the world to take it easy so she could write her next fic. *starts chanting*_

**Chinadoll**** – Well thank you very much for telling me that you're hooked! It means a lot to me. Do drop by again, okay? I definitely appreciate your presence… I hope I see your review again, and soon! :) **


	13. Thirteen

**Author's Notes: **I'm so glad that some of you noticed that little glitch from the last chapter… to answer your question, the phrase 'his Marguerite' really was intended :) It's so wonderful to have readers like you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! :) :) :) 

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me except the characters of Jerome Duncan and Evelyn Krux. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Thirteen_

He felt as though he was yanked away from the blissful arms of heaven and thrown into the fiery pits of hell. At first he felt nothing at all; he never knew that oblivion could bring about such serenity, such peace! But then, as he ever so slowly returned from the realm of unconsciousness, he suddenly began to feel the stinging pain all over his face and arms; began to feel the burn that slowly gnawed at his flesh. He foolishly thought he could seek for the abyss once more just by closing his eyes, just by ignoring the pain, but nothingness was nothing more than just a dream to him now. He had been reprieved from feeling it at first, but now the pain came back to taunt him with its wicked claws, to caress him with its sharp, sharp touches.__

William fought hard, fought valiantly in fact, to suppress the sudden need to moan. As if such a small sound could dismiss him from the agony so quickly! But the pain was too much – too intense, perhaps, that even a scream wouldn't quite enable him to be released from its paws. Yet did he scream? Did he moan? Not a sound came from his lips. Perhaps a display of such restraint was befitting a man of his character, a man of his position in society, but in a time like this?

He opened his eyes. What was the difference, he thought, be it that his eyes were opened or closed? It wasn't enough to place him back in the cradle of the abyss. At least when his eyes were open he could try and focus on his surroundings more than he would on his condition. And try to focus he did; try to divert his attention he did. At first his vision was full of blurred images – _had he gone blind? _– until the images slowly, very slowly, formed forms that resembled their actual appearances. 

And the first that he had seen, had recognized?

"John," he whispered, his voice hoarse as though he had not used his tongue for quite a period of time. The knowledge that his brother was there filled him with warmth, and suddenly his pain wasn't as excruciating as it was before. 

John merely smiled at him from where he was standing. "Hello there, old boy," he muttered low. William noticed that his brother was wearing a simple white hospital gown and was supporting himself with some sort of cane. His face had colored bruises and touches of burns, but other than the little cuts and wounds he seemed to be fine.

_What happened? Why do you look like that? Why am I like this? _A million other things nagged at him, questions that begged to be asked outright. _What happened to you, to us? Why are we in the hospital? What… what happened—?_

And then, as though there was some light that illuminated him from above, the answers came to him in gasping heaps. His eyes widened as he stared at his brother, as though _John _was the one that brought this epiphany, these memories, to him. The wedding. The commotion. The explosion. He suddenly remembered it all. He wetted his parched, dried lips before he spoke. "Where—"

John merely placed a gentle hand over his bandaged arm in an act to stop him from speaking. "Shh." He said. "You should rest."

Disobeying his brother, William tried to speak once again. "But—"

"William," John said in a sterner voice, "hush yourself. Speak only when you have enough strength to do so." 

The words did not bother William, but the face did. John's face was almost confusing to look at, for it contained so much stillness that one wouldn't know if this man ever feels at all. Why was he wearing such an expression? It was that stillness that stilled his tongue, that held his words captive, that kept him silent despite his obvious want to be otherwise.

"Mother is fine," John spoke again, his face becoming a bit livelier, more expressive. William was thankful for that. "I came to her first because you were still asleep. She's terribly confused, but thankfully, unhurt."

William sort of smiled at that, the corner of his lips lifting on their own. Relief filled his heart to the very brim as he heard these words.

"As for the others…" He hesitated. Then John shook his head as though he suddenly dismissed his words. His face became stoic again. "We'll talk about it once you are strong enough."

Relief slowly gave way to something akin to dread and fear; the feelings numbing him, robbing him of the capability to feel anything.

Then John patted his arm. "I'm very glad you're awake, brother." He said softly, his eyes expressive of his relief. He then began to turn towards the door. "I'll be right back."

Despite the pain of doing so, William stubbornly lifted his hand and caught his brother's. Only one word escaped from his lips: "Marguerite…?"

His brother gently removed his hand and laid it down. "I'm going to find her room now," he said. "You'll hear how she is soon enough." 

* 

"My Lord! What—"

John merely brushed away the surprised question the nurse threw at him. "I need to know whether a Marguerite Krux was admitted at about the same time my mother was." He said.

The nurse blinked at him, then stood up to her full height. "But sir, you are not—"

But once again he cut her off. "Please, madam." He said to her, his tone appropriately pleading. "_I need to know_."

She looked at him with critical eyes, eyes that were assessing whether or not she should give in to the request of this Lord before her. "Very well," she muttered as she placed her glasses on and began her search through the hospital records.

John leaned forward as he placed his arms over the counter, his cane resting just nearby. He looked on as the nurse pulled out a very large folder that contained hundreds of files of the patients that the hospital has admitted for the past few months. "She was admitted yesterday," he said helpfully, hoping that his contribution would quicken her search.

She glanced at him before rummaging through _each of the files._

Heaving a frustrated sigh, John considered searching the whole hospital just to look for Marguerite. He began to reach for his cane when sounds called his attention. He turned around.

"What happened to her?" One of the younger nurses asked another, their voices hushed but still heard. 

"The explosion yesterday," the other answered. "She was found just outside the chapel. I think Henry thought that that girl's parents were rushed in here, too."

"Poor child. I hope her parents are alright…"

John frowned slightly, and his gaze wandered from the nurses to the object of their conversation… a little girl. He never recalled seeing a child inside the chapel yesterday, so how could this girl be from where they said she was? He reached for his cane and walked towards the nurses. "Excuse me," he said as soon as he was near enough.

"Lord Roxton," the first one said, her eyes wide. "How can we help you?"

John glanced at the little girl then returned his gaze to the nurses. "I heard you say that the child was brought in from the chapel." 

The second one nodded. "One of the rescuers – Henry – found that girl alone just behind the elm tree near the chapel." She said. "The poor child was as white as a ghost when he found her."

"Have you learned who her parents are?"

The second one shook her head sadly. "We tried asking her, but she just wouldn't speak. She wouldn't say anything – she just kept staring off to space like that."

"We've tried everything – we gave her food, offered her candy, but…" the first one shrugged. "We got nothing from her."

"She must be still traumatized from seeing such an explosion." The nurse finished.

John nodded at them. "Thank you very much," he muttered before turning away. He considered going back to the nurses' station to check on the nurse's progress, but the image of that little girl, so lost, so sad, kept tugging at his heart. He decided to go to her. Marguerite can wait.

She was seated by her lonesome, the chair frighteningly large compared to her very small form. John sat next to her. "Hello there," he said softly.

When the little girl lifted her face to look at him, he was startled momentarily, transfixed at the intenseness of her expression, of her blue gaze. John recovered immediately and smiled at her, feeling a bit awkward at having to talk to a child. "What's your name?"

She just stared at him, her mouth closed tightly until her lips were white. She didn't reply.

John was about to coax an answer from her when his attention was called. "Lord Roxton?" 

He looked up to see that the nurse had finished her job. John turned to the little girl. "I'll be right back." He said. He then stood to speak with the nurse. 

"Lord Roxton," she said to him. "You asked me about a Marguerite Krux being admitted to this hospital?"

John nodded briskly. "Marguerite K-R-U-X. I was told she was brought here yesterday at about the same time my mother was."

The nurse stared at him again, then slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Lord Roxton, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. We have no record of a Marguerite Krux being admitted yesterday."

To be continued… 

**To those wonderful enough to review Chapter 12 (Oh, you know who you are!)**

**Cara – **A-hah! You thought I'd kill William? Well… I was tempted at first, but… let's just say that all will reveal itself in due course (did I just quote 'Ever After' in that?) :) :) :) Thank you so much for the wonderful review!

**LadySammyMRoxton**** – *blushes profusely* thank you for the compliments, hon! You're really inflating my ego, you know (and to think its large enough as it is! ;)) I'm so glad you're excited with where all this is heading to, and I hope wherever it was, you'd be there! (did that just made sense? LOL!) Thanks again!**

**Wishes – **thank you for reviewing! It means so much to me that even when you're tired you took the time to read and review this. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh, and did you get my gift? I sent Roxton there to massage your sore muscles… I'm telling you, that guy could surely cure anything in an instant! ;)

**Sash – **You do, eh? *grin* thanks! Just say the word and you're more than welcomed to live in it! I *do* have to learn to share the nummy men of TLW, if you know what I mean! LOL!

**A. Windsor – **thanks for the compliments! I love it when you drop by, and I'm always looking forward to your reviews *hint, hint!* LOL!

**Fab**** – And I never stop appreciating your reviews, my friend :) Do drop by again, okay? ;)**

**Agentsteph**** – I've got your attention and now I don't ever intend to let it go… MWAHAHAHA!!! Anyways, thanks for coming back and reviewing! It means a lot! ;) And you're lucky reviewer number 100, so there'll be some major gifts for you, like a night with Roxton and shopping spree with Marguerite at all of her favorite jewelry stores! Also, you'll receive free jungle training sessions with Veronica, some of Malone's greatest writings, a tour of Challenger's laboratory, a replica of Finn's infamous crossbow and an all expense paid trip to the Zanga Mall! You lucky you! *grin***

**AerinBrown**** – Yay! You're back! You're back! Anyways, don't put the evilness all on Marguerite. Blame some of it on ME! ;) And am I going to kill William? *thinks hard* well… *thinks harder* I really cannot say… *wicked grin* but I can arrange it so that he can be your slave for a day… are you up for the offer? ;)**

**Ariadne**** – Oh! I made your imagination cringe! That's definitely a compliment! Thank you so much for that! And I agree with you, Challenger is *definitely* a horrible person, even more horrible than he was in "EFAE". But doesn't he look great when he's evil? *gets all dreamy eyed***

**Veggie5 – **And I appreciate your curiosity! As I've said before, it was intentional… just think of it this way: Roxton's getting more and more *unconsciously* possessive over Marguerite. Hmm, lucky her, to have 2 Roxtons liking her that much! *swoon* Anyways, thank you so much for saying that this fic is one of your medicines, and it better be, because I surely don't want that brain of yours to melt! Dang I don't like your professors. Anyways, just remember to take one step at a time. I got this little quote for 'ya = "STRESSED is just DESSERTS spelled backwards, so whenever you feel like giving up, just remember that your work is just a piece of cake". Worked for me! It worked so well I got a perfect grade for my internship! Yay! 

**TLWROX – **Glad to know this fic of mine is one of your favorites. I hope I won't let you down, my friend! *and you almost woke up the entire household? LOL! How many times did I do that? Oh, too many to count already!*

**Maloal**** – Oohh, I like that torture thing. It'll be my signature! Heehee. And me, mean and nasty? *flutters eyelashes innocently* little ol' me? Oh, Margie, you're too kind ;) Ah, don't get me started on that S4 thing, or else I'd think I'm just like those folks who make us wait and wait and wait without as much as an inch of good news! I'm evil but not THAT evil… am I? ;) Oh, you know in your good heart I'm not… ;)**

**Smiley – **Now THAT review was better than any laptop or beach house. *swoon* I'm so happy with what you said! You just made me all smile-y (pun?) this week! Thank you, thank you, thank you! And no, you're not impatient at all. You're as patient as I am kind. Right? Oh, SMILEY! Have I told you yet that I loved your review? ;)

**Mags968 – **I'm really glad you liked the chapter… ;) And speechless? You? (Kinda echoed LSMR there, huh? ;))

**KatAnn**** – you liked the spoilers, huh? (except for the end… oh, but you do know I have my ways!) And yes, me the tormentor, I bet all readers know that… ;) Anyways thank you for the e-mail. Me likes it that you liked my site and the other TLW fics. And Amends? I haven't started that yet, but its already on my to-do list. *pouts* now where are your suggestions, hmm? Not that I'm bugging you or anything, right? ;)**


	14. Fourteen

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys! Oh, if I could just cook, I would send you cookies! But alas, I am not a talented cook, as I have been told by my family so many, many times… *gasp!* You might end up dead from what I'll give you, and then what? *WEG*

Anyways, the thankies are at the bottom. Oh, and one question… do you guys read Harry Potter? It's just that I've gone astray once more and now I am way above my head, trying to gobble up Draco/Hermione fics! Hehe, I'm deranged like that! :) Oh, and shameless plugging! I've written some fics for that, so if you're curious on what I've done to those two, give my name a little click. Its archived here ;) Oh-kay, you're probably wondering, what's this got to do with TLW? Nothing! So let's get it on!

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Fourteen_

There was a throbbing pain at the back of her head. At first it was too intense; the pain was like little knives plunging themselves repeatedly on her skull. It was truly a wonder how her head was still intact when it should have been hacked into tiny pieces by now.

A moan decidedly escaped from her tightly compressed lips, and she was helpless from keeping it to herself. Immediately, she opened her eyes, and then cursed silently for doing it. Stars began to dance wildly around her, and just beyond the ridiculously dancing stars, she noticed that everything were swirling in an alarmingly fast rate. 

It was enough for Marguerite to throw up.

Suddenly, gentle hands lifted her back off the bed – _she was lying in a bed? – until she was seated. Then, while she was kept seated by purposely having her back rested on someone's chest, a glass of water – __green? – appeared in front of her, held by small hands. Female hands._

"Marguerite," a voice suddenly said, frighteningly very close to her ear. Sure enough, it was a female voice. "Drink this. It would help with the dizziness."

Marguerite never even bothered to think on the specifics, about who this was or what was being given to her. In any other situation, she would have been held back by her distrust, by her instinct to never _ever accept anything from someone she didn't know. But self-preservation tactics be damned. She was just eager enough to drink anything to stop the nausea that was quickly consuming her. She was just that desperate to make the dancing stars and the swirling furniture go away. _

With shaking hands, she reached for the glass, and drank it all. After she did, she frowned at the after-taste of the liquid. It tasted like boiled rocks and leaves, coupled with sweet honey and sour vinegar. It was an understatement to say it was most disgusting. "What the hell was that?" she demanded in a voice so hoarse she was surprised it came from her own mouth.     

A chuckle came from beside her, and then the glass was taken from her hands. "Medicine," she was told. "It may have a nasty taste but it could sure help clear that head of yours."

Marguerite was about to argue on that when she noticed that her vision seem to – slowly – return to normal. The dancing stars and the swirling furniture began to fade into oblivion. _Thank God! _

Just then, she turned to the one holding her, her expression filled with questioning and suspicion. 

And then the questioning and suspicious look disappeared, and genuine relief flooded her face. 

"Veronica!" Marguerite said, her face breaking into a smile. But the smile was small and quite unsure. "Where am I? Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in—"

Veronica just smiled at her. "Lay down first." She said. "Twenty questions later." She then proceeded to push Marguerite back into the bed, and then covered the older woman with a blanket. She sat beside the bed and peered at her patient. "How are you feeling?" 

"Fine, I think." Marguerite answered. Her tongue was thick from disuse, and at first she had trouble enunciating the words. "Quite confused, really."

Veronica nodded. "You should be," she said. "That blow to your head was nasty. Ned and I were afraid you suffered more than just a concussion." The seriousness in her tone then changed into something merrier. "But if you remember my name then I guess you're going to be okay. What was the last thing you remember?"

Marguerite frowned. "Wait a minute. Aren't I the one who should be asking you questions, and not the other way around?"

The other woman bit her lip from grinning outright. "Yes, of course. Ask away."

"Thank you." She paused, and then asked. "Where are we?"

"In my house." Veronica answered. 

"Why am I here?"

"Jerome brought you in after that incident at the chapel, just like what was indicated in the plan I gave to both of you."

Marguerite sat up so quickly that the act left her breathless and quite dizzy. "The chapel," she whispered. "Oh my God—"

"Marguerite, please," Veronica stood up and tried to push Marguerite back, but the latter was rigid and unheeding. She sighed, and then sat again. "You shouldn't move—"

"Veronica," Marguerite said as she turned her eyes on her. "You have to tell me what happened after…"

When she said nothing after that, Veronica took it as a sign that she should start speaking. "Very well," she started. "Jerome brought you here yesterday, quite bloody from the wound you received at your head. You have several burns on your face, neck and hands, but none too severe; I've already placed some balms so you don't have to worry about them. It's a shame, really, that that wedding gown of yours is ruined. It was really beautiful." She pointed at something lying on the table. "The protective covering you placed on your body worked perfectly. You don't have any burns or wounds on your body." Veronica paused, and then said, "You were very fortunate to have stopped at the right moment and at the right spot, Marguerite. Jerome told me that if you were a little closer to the center aisle… it would have killed you. Even with the covering on, the impact of the explosion on your unprotected head would have killed you." Her voice fainted away into a mere whisper.

Marguerite stared at her, unblinking, her jaw set on tight. "I need to know…" Her face became distorted with quite a few conflicting emotions, none of which Veronica could understand or interpret. "I need to know what happened to the… Roxtons."

Veronica's face hardened at that. "Funny," she said. "_They're the ones who should be dead by now, but by sheer luck they're among those who survived." She grimaced. "And we all thought revenge would be so sweet."_

An almost imperceptible look of relief flashed on Marguerite's face, and she let out the breath she never knew she was holding back. "They're… _alive_?"

"Unfortunately." Veronica seemed to miss the expression on Marguerite's face, or if she did she never indicated any signs of noticing it. "I can't say the same for the others, though."

Marguerite slowly sank back to the bed. "How many died?"

"Fourteen." Veronica answered. "Those unfortunate enough to sit close to the bouquet that hid the bomb died outright. Some broke their necks when the impact threw them out of the chapel."

"Fourteen…" Marguerite repeated faintly.

"Fourteen." Veronica affirmed firmly. "But don't worry, most of those who died were very unpopular and have no families that would want to know what the hell happened to them."

"But the Roxtons," Marguerite said. "They _lived. They would __want to know what happened that day. They'd investigate—"_

Veronica appeared to be nonchalant. "They won't have anything." She said. "Sir Challenger's a smart man; he's already dispatched everything that would link him to this whole incident. This would just pass as one of those events that happen before the coming war, a premonition of what could happen if the war erupts, if you will. The authorities would blame the revolutionaries for this, you'll see. You don't have to worry."

Marguerite nodded at that. Then, when everything seemed to be settled, she sat up once again, her face ashen and broken.

Veronica stifled the urge to chuckle. "Keep doing that and you'll end up looking like a 'Jack in the Box'." She mused.

But the humor was lost on the other woman. "Evelyn," she muttered as she gingerly moved to lift her feet off the bed. "I have to see her. Where is she?"

Veronica stood up. She placed her hands on Marguerite's shoulders. "You shouldn't get up," she said sternly. "You're too weak."

"But Evelyn, I have to see her!" Tears began to form on her eyes, tears of desperation, of regret, of relief. Her emotions were too complicated and too complex to decipher, and the confusion built within her just seemed too overwhelming to bear. "Veronica, you don't understand. I have to see her!" She seemed hysterical now. 

"Not now, Marguerite!" Veronica said, her voice deepening to one that said she was beginning to tire from her patient's attitude. "You _will see her. But not right now; not when you barely have enough strength to stand on your own feet."_

"But is she alright?" Marguerite asked, always the mother that was worried for the safety of her child. 

Veronica shook her head. "I haven't talked to Sir Challenger yet," she said, "But I'm sure Evelyn is alright."

*

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S NOT HERE?"

John never gave a damn about what the others thought of him, so why should he start now? He ignored the pointed gawks and look he received from those around him; all he knew was that he was frustrated and confused and now they're telling him that they have no record of a Marguerite Krux being admitted to the hospital? Surely there has to be some mistake. "She _should be here. I was told she __was here!" _

The nurse stared back at him, her face never showing any amount of fear. Clearly she had faced hysterical patients before and knew how to handle them well. "Lord Roxton," she said in a placating tone, "I already told you that we have never admitted a person named Marguerite Krux. Now, if you would just like to step into my office—"

"Well, check again, damn it!" John seethed. He leaned heavily on the cane and ran fingers through his hair. His wounds and burns began to throb like hell. "She has to be here. I was told she was here!"

"If you please, Lord Roxton, I would want you to see for yourself the list of patients we have admitted yesterday. We don't have her on that list. She was never brought here."

"Fine," John said. "Give me that bloody list."

The nurse seemed to leave him in great relief. John closed his eyes and cursed, not knowing how to handle the situation, not knowing how to break the news to his brother and mother. Surely they are anticipating the news of Marguerite's well-being, but how in hell was he supposed to tell them that _she wasn't here_?

_Maybe she's dead. _Suddenly the dread he felt from this thought overpowered the one he felt from learning of her absence. John ran his hand through his hair once again. _Maybe she died. Or maybe she was just sent to another… damn it, I'll have to comb through every single hospital to find her—_

"Here you are," The nurse was back and now she was handing him a list. "Please go and check for yourself."

John glared at the nurse, and at this she seem to have finally felt the need to _fear _him. He quickly yanked the list from her hands and scanned it. _Countess Nicole Beaugrent, Count Miguel Beaubory, _Lady Victoria Roxton, Lord William Roxton, Lord John Roxton, Lord Jerome Duncan, Countess Hilda Crant, Baron Richard Antel, Baroness Marie Pomfrey…__

The nurse was right. There was no record of a Marguerite Krux. It was as though she had disappeared into thin air.

"Bloody hell," John cursed. He turned away from the nurse. _Where are you, Marguerite? Where in hell are you?_

Then he suddenly turned towards her again. A thought, an idea, finally formed in his brain. Perhaps he does have a chance to learn where she is… from the man who told her she was brought in here in the first place. "Lord Jerome Duncan," he spoke. "What room is he in? I have to see him."

The nurse nodded, and then checked. Then she raised her eyes to his. "He was in room 309. But I'm sorry to say this, Lord Roxton… Jerome Duncan already left this morning."

"WHAT?!" He exploded as the thought of his only hope evaporated as quickly as it came. 

"His wounds were superficial and weren't too severe. His doctors treated it and he was sent home immediately after." Her tone now had a certain degree of trepidation in it.

John nodded at this, and tried to calm himself down. The poor nurse was beginning to have a nervous breakdown and it was all because of him. "Thank you," he said sullenly. "You have been of great help."

He was about to turn away when she called him. "I'm… I'm sure this isn't any of my business," she began, and John wondered what she was going to say. "But, Lord Roxton… is this Marguerite Krux your wife?" 

The question surprised him beyond words. But when he answered, "No. She isn't. She's my brother's wife-to-be," the disappointment and the regret he felt at having said those words surprised him even more.

To be continued… 

_Torture is your business, your only business - Maloal_

**To those wonderful enough to review Chapter Thirteen:**

**LadySammyMRoxton**** – Aha! One day, when I'm going to be asked how on earth I get to have the biggest ego in the universe, I'll just tell them, "It's all LadySammyMRoxton's fault!" ;p Thank you for the kind words, my dear!**

**Galxychld**** – Thank you very much for the review! To be honest I love making John as adorable as he is in the series. And what type of woman in her right mind wouldn't want John Roxton going gaga over her? *grin* Marguerite's just so lucky!**

**Cara – **I'm sorry if I'm making you confused over two Roxtons…. I know, who wouldn't be? They're such a breed of fine young men… *gets all dreamy-eyed* Ahem. ;p Anyways, thank you, thank you, thank you for the review! 

**Veggie5 – **so much for my chants! To quote my Harry Potter fics, "those professors of yours are bloody insufferable gits!" Arrgggh! Oh well, there's always food… ;p Always heed my advice, for I am truly wise! (not to mention deluded!) I should be locked up at St. Mungo's! Oh-kay, enough HP references already! 

**Wishes – **glad you enjoyed the massage! And thank you for the review!

**TheChosenOne**** – Yup, the little girl is Evelyn. As for Challenger, well… as scary a thought he might be, he still is one nice thought to entertain! Heehee :) Thank you for the review! And thank you for the review of my 'Cry of the Blood' *mentally adds you to the growing list of those who want me dead for not finishing that***

**Fab**** – Ah, I live to stimulate you with questions, my friend ;) I hope I'm satisfying your curiosity as we go along each chapter. Don't forget to leave me with your thoughts, too, I love hearing those ;) **

**Ariadne**** – Smart girl, one shouldn't trust a writer as twisted and deluded as I am. They always get readers into trouble… ;p I hope this chapter answered your question on what I did to Marguerite ;)**

**TLWROX – **Your words delight me, my friend! They always do! Thank you so much! And me, kill William? Now why on earth would I do something like that? *bats eyelashes innocently* I have a heart of gold! I cannot do something like that… well, not much… ;p

**AerinBrown**** – Then alive shall William be delivered to you. Woohoo! ;) Anyways, Challenger will get his punishment soon enough… just you wait… ;) Oh, I love it when I get all mysterious like this… ;p**

**KatAnn**** – You *so* do not want to see me doing my dance. The imagery will just haunt you for days! And yes, *drums fingers impatiently* still looking forward to your e-mail… but of course, I'll wait for it. Patiently. Oh, shoot patience! I want it now… pwease? Pwetty, pwetty pwease? *those sounded *so* wrong…***

**AgentSteph**** – Ain't Roxton just the perfect guy? Devilishly handsome, good with guns and children… oh, why can't all men be like that? The injustices in this universe… ohhh! Anyways, if the 'to be continued' is killing you, wait till you see where this'll end… WAHAHAHA!!! ;p**

**Greggo's**** Girl – Well hello there! Thank you for the wonderful, wonderful review. And I hope this chapter explained *sorta* what on earth happened to Marguerite. And evil Challenger? Yes, that man can just be so deliciously evil… *evil snort* Anyways, hope you drop by again, okay? I'll be hunting you if you don't! Hehe, you should know that I am one deluded writer… just ask the others! ;0**

**Mags968 – **Very glad you liked chapter thirteen. I'm wondering how many pages you've already printed out ;) And thank you for the great review!

**Beckers – **Oh, I'm responsible for Beckers turning blue! *lets out a horrified gasp* your fans will kill me! Oh no! *WEG* Anyways, thank you for reading and reviewing! 

**Smiley – **Blame stupid ff.net for that! I've had this ready to be posted at the usual time, but they won't let me! Anyways, THANK YOU! You're just a wealth of nice things to say… I'm always looking forward to your reviews! So thanks… again!****


	15. Fifteen

**Author's Notes:  ***Hides from the killing glares* I'm so sorry, everyone! I wasn't able to update for such a long time because I was, admittedly, distracted… *cough* IwasbusywritingDraco/Hermionefics *cough* Ahem. I'm very sorry, guys! *goes on her knees and begs* I'm so, so soooorrryyyy!!!!

Anyways, on a completely separate note, yay! I just learned that my 'Writer's Ink' and 'Caught in the Middle' are both nominated for the 'Story that Made You Laugh' category… thank you to those who nominated my stuff! You guys are just great!

You all know the drill… the personal thankies are still at the bottom ;)

*Sigh* If this chapter is baffling you, blame me and my tired brain… this is quite different, actually. Hmm. 

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to 'The Lost World'. No profit is made, no infringement is ever intended.

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Fifteen_

Three days have passed since the tragedy that befell the elite society of London. The media, being the predator that it was, only fed on the story more; everyday, every newspaper in the country blared of nothing but the incident that occurred on the day that Lord William Roxton and his Lady Marguerite Krux was about to be wed. The bombing was just too delicious a piece to let go of, and every possible account about it was taken into consideration, every possible person connected to it was interviewed. Speculations about it flew rampant: was it due to some hideous prank, or perhaps caused by a jealous lover? Of course, the persons that _were_ truly involved in it, the only persons that could definitely prove or disprove these theories were never solicited for their view on the matter, for both the Lords and the Lady Roxton were still recuperating from their brutal 'attack'.

Of course, the authorities were on their toes, trying in their best to get to the bottom of the incident. Based from their initial findings, it was as if the bombing was done as the sign of an impending revolution, and it was almost clear that there was no one else to blame but the revolutionaries themselves. As it is, the police were already apprehending their suspects… 

The conditions of the victims of the explosion were constantly monitored and reported to the interested public. Now, almost everyone knows of Lady Victoria Roxton's slow road to recovery and Lord William Roxton's near brush with death. It was a miracle, really, that no one has yet seized of the fact that Marguerite Krux had mysteriously disappeared. This was kept strictly confidential between Lord John Roxton and his contacts. Even this bit of information was lost on his brother and mother, for this news would only upset her, and this news would only threaten him.

Two days have passed since they arrived on the hospital, and in these two days John wasn't able to fully concentrate on his treatments for he was too busy trying to locate Marguerite's whereabouts. Suddenly, the possibility of her being dead loomed even bigger than before, but he was still too stubborn to believe that, not until he could see Marguerite's dead body with his own eyes. Every single hospital within several miles from where they where now were already accounted for, and still, of Marguerite's presence there was still no sign. John tried to contact Jerome, but he was unsuccessful each time. 

The older Roxton was slowly being driven to his wits' end. 

"Damn it, Marguerite, where the hell are you?" he whispered. He had just finished talking to one of his contacts who had just informed him of another failure. John nodded at the head nurse, who had kindly allowed him to use the telephone of her station, and started to head towards his own room. He did not need his cane to move around anymore as he was stable enough to walk without the support of one.

He was mulling over other possibilities and ways of finding her when he suddenly found his path blocked by the little body of the girl that he 'met' days before. 

"Good heavens, child, there you are!" John looked behind him to see a fairly young nurse scuttle towards him and the child. She threw an apologetic look at him before she took the girl by the hand. "I'm sorry if she's bothering you, Lord Roxton, but you see—"

John shook his head. "No, no she wasn't bothering me," he said to the nurse, before returning his gaze to the child in front of him. 

She was staring at him again, in the way she was when he first saw her. The intensity of her soulful eyes was almost heart-wrenching. He quickly looked at her, frowned, then addressed the nurse once again. "Isn't she being given anything to eat?" 

The nurse seemed taken aback by the question, much more by the vehemence that accompanied it. "Of… of course she is!" she told the Lord. "But… but _she's_ the one who _wasn't eating…" _

John glared at her, sighed, and then said, "Is it possible that she be left with me, even for only an hour?" he asked.

The nurse was more than just surprised at the request. "With you, my Lord?" she asked. "But… but the child is mute! She cannot speak at all!"

"I don't believe she is." He told her, before he turned his gaze to the child. With a small smile to lighten his face, he asked her, "Do you want to come with me?" 

The child was still for a moment, before she pulled her hand away from the nurse's and held on to John's.

He gripped at the delicate hand he held, and then said to the nurse, "We'll be in my room," he said, before they walked away.

*

"How is she?"

Veronica looked up from her sketch, and a smile immediately illuminated her face. "Ned!" She said, before she stood up and embraced her husband eagerly. "You've been away for too long. I've missed you!"

Ned returned her affection with as much love as she gave him. He could immediately feel all the other emotions temporarily abate as he basked in the feeling of her arms around him. "I've missed you too." He said. With that, he drew away from her and kissed her briefly on the lips. 

She stared at him after that, worry creasing the fine lines of her brows as she took in his appearance. "Ned, what's wrong?" she asked.

He looked at her, then threw a glance at the sleeping form of Marguerite on the bed, and finally led his wife to another room by her hand. Veronica pulled away for a moment to set her drawings aside and to check if Marguerite was still asleep, before she went to where he was. When he had closed the door behind her, Ned asked, once again, "How is Marguerite?"

Veronica pursed her lips, knowing fully well that he was just stalling for time. "She's doing well," she said. "I've treated her burns and I don't think she'll ever have to worry about scars…" 

Ned just nodded at that. His face looked very much troubled, as though he was trying to solve every question, every piece of puzzle in the universe. He quietly walked away from the door, pulled one of the chairs by the side of their bed and sat on it.

"Ned," Veronica said softly as she approached him. "Tell me, what's wrong?" She rested a hand over his shoulder, and she could feel all the tensed muscles that lied just beneath her fingers, just beneath his skin.

He released the breath he was holding, and then looked up, his eyes meeting the clear blues of his wife's. "I just came from Sir Challenger's, just as you asked me to," he began.

She visibly stiffened at the mention of the name. "I'm guessing he already knows about the list of casualties," she said.

Ned nodded, slowly at first. "He's enraged," he told her. "He demanded how on earth could all those people die without including any of the Roxtons with them. He demanded how on earth could have William survived such an explosion that was designed to kill him like that…" Malone raked his hands through his hair, and then gave a short laugh. "Challenger must have forgotten that _I _don't have any of his answers since I _wasn't _there when it happened."

Veronica gave him a mirthless smile. "Temporary lapses of memory… my, I didn't know _Uncle _George is becoming quite forgetful nowadays." 

"That's not the only problem." Ned continued. "He's suspecting that… that Marguerite has something to do with all of this."

"Are you telling me that he's actually thinking that Marguerite deliberately foiled his plan to save William?" Veronica asked, disbelief very much apparent in her tone. 

Ned stood up from his chair to face her. "He's _convinced that she did." He said._

She blinked at him. "But… but that's not possible," Veronica told him. "I mean, the bomb exploded, didn't it? It was just sheer luck that those bastards lived through it," 

"But Challenger's looking at things a bit differently," said Malone as he raked his hands through his hair. "Apparently, the night before the wedding Marguerite came to him and _pleaded _to stop this incident from happening. She even went to as far as returning all of his payments to her just so she wouldn't continue with the plan."

"Yet she did, Malone," Veronica stated, unconsciously calling her husband by their last name. It always slips out like that whenever her emotions ran haywire. "She's bloody well resting with us because she _did. What more proof could Challenger want?"_

"The fact that William is very much alive and well is enough proof for him of her betrayal." Ned told her. 

She looked at him sharply. "So what is he planning to do? Kill the girl?"

"He doesn't have her."

The silence that followed his declaration was almost too chilling to bear. Veronica merely gaped at him, her eyes filled with confusion and incredulity, her face filled with surprise and shock. "_WHAT?" _

Ned stared at his wife gravely. "He doesn't have Evelyn in his custody anymore."

A sharp intake of breath was heard in the room, but it didn't come from either Ned or Veronica.

They both turned to see Marguerite by the door, and from the look on her face they could tell that she heard Ned's last words.

To be continued…

**To all you beautiful people who reviewed: (Hear me sing: I Love You, I Love You, I Love Yoooouuuu!!!!)**

**A. Windsor** – Thank you for reviewing! And it's okay, you know ;p I'm very glad that you're back! (On that note, I'm very glad that I'm back as well… ;p)

**LaddySammyMRoxton**** – Oh, you are bad, bad Sammy! ;p anyways, thank you for the review. I'm very glad you loved that chapter :) And yes, thanks to the vacation I just had, my ego's been deflated a bit, so… I command you to do your magic! Heehee!**

**AgentSteph – Ain't that the sweetest truth… heehee ;0 A happy ending? Me? Why would I do that? *flutters eyelashes innocently* Oh, but AgentSteph… you just have to find out for yourself, though I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. I'm _that _evil, you see… and, HEY! Thank you for the private message, it's the first I've received! Thanks! And I'm very, very, very sorry if I didn't post this chapter the day I told you I would… please forgive me!**

**TheChosenOne – OOOOOHHH!!! A Harry Potter fanatic like me! I read all five books already, and I have the two movies to keep me company… ;0 Oh, that Draco Malfoy. I could just gobble that Slytherin up! *winks* **

**Galxychld – Thank you for the review, hon! At first I was quite reluctant to write John's hysteria in there, since, well, I thought it was a bit much, but I'm very glad you liked it. And Veronica as bad as Challenger? Heehee, I'm twisted like that, twisting all the 'good' and making them really 'bad' ;0 **

**Fab – I appreciate that you pointed that out :) But it was really necessary to have John temporarily 'forget' about Evelyn at that chapter (or at least in my opinion, it was! ;p) I just thought that somehow, in chapter fourteen all his thoughts are centered only in finding Marguerite. Thank you for your inputs, my friend! And keep them coming! **

**AerinBrown – *mouth drops open in surprise* Wha— I thought you liked William! You're his number one fan! Not that I blame you for turning your attention over to the more *ahem* gifted Roxton, but still!!! Oooohhh, vixen! *winks***

**Greggo's**** Girl – You are quite queer, you know that, right? ;P But, oh, I like how you think! And yes, to answer your question, you are the only one who can picture an apricot break-dancing. It takes exceptional talent to do that, and you do it with ease. Niiiicccceeee!!! LOL!!!**

**Smiley – Yes, you were the first, and thank you for that! *flutters eyelashes innocently* What little reunion scene? I plan of doing no such thing… *WEG* **

**Margie – Yes, my dear. You are quite quotable, and quite accurate at that ;) I told you I'd be using that as my signature! Heehee. Anyways, thank you for the review, I can't seem to tire of hearing people telling me how *wickedly* evil I am… ;)**

**Mags968 – Don't worry about it, hon! And thank you for the review! And thank you for the inquiries! And I'm sorry about the withdrawal symptoms! And I'd stop with these 'ands'! :0**

**Angel **LeeAnn** – Hi there! Thank you very, very much for the wonderful reviews… I'm flattered! Thanks!**

**Enchanter – Hi to you, too! Thank you so much for the nice review, it means a lot to me! Thank you!**


	16. Sixteen

**Author's Notes: ***points up* have a lookie at my name! Yes, It's zarah _joyce__ now, as I absolutely abhor being referred to as zarah1. I'm not a clone for crying out loud!!!_

Ahem. Yes, back to business. I'm so very glad that you guys have forgiven me for being MIA for a while… hehehe ;) My gawd, I'm supposed to be writing something for my class but now I can't do it unless I write this chappie down. And, hey! *insert shameless plugging here* Um… do any of you guys want to read an original story done by yours truly? Because I'm in dire need of an opinion of it… and I am in dire need of a BETA. The story's not done, though, in fact I'm only finished with chapter one (an introduction) and some character sketches… please, I appeal to your *ahem* pride… are there anyone of you who'd be willing and brave enough to dissect something from me? Oh please oh please oh please oh please somebody say yes…. Pppllleeeaaaasssseeee!!!

*sings* The end is quite near… did I just sing that? Hmm…. 

Ah, yes. With that said, let's get this chappie on the go… *sadistic laughter*

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Sixteen_

"What did you say?" Marguerite mumbled softly, but the hardening steel in her gray eyes was unmistakable. 

"Marguerite," said Veronica worriedly, as she watched her friend steady herself by reaching out one of her hands and holding on to the table top. "You shouldn't be—"

But the older woman wasn't even acknowledging her presence, or her words. She just stood there, her eyes hard as glittering diamonds as she stared at Malone. "Where's my daughter?" she asked, the quietness in her voice completely belying the turmoil within her.

Ned glanced at his wife before he turned towards the distraught figure of Marguerite. Knowing that lying could just bring in more trouble, as it was blatantly clear that she _had _heard his words, he cleared his throat before he spoke, "Challenger doesn't have her anymore."

Marguerite absorbed these words without as much as a flicker of any emotion across her face. Then, after several moments passed, she turned sideways and rested both of her palms on the table. She took several, calming breaths, but it never did any good. "Where's Evelyn?" she asked again, and she very nearly hissed these words out.

He winced at the anger that could be heard from her words. "He doesn't—"

But before he could finish his words, he was shocked out of his coherent thoughts when Marguerite suddenly lifted the table and threw it effortlessly to one side of the room. "Damn it, Malone!" she shouted, as her tears finally made themselves known in the gray of her eyes, "Don't give me that! Don't tell me that bastard doesn't have her anymore! He just… has…"

Veronica quickly shook herself from her surprise and went to Marguerite, her arms lifted upwards to gather her in her arms. "Marguerite," she whispered soothingly, as she wrapped her friend in her embrace, "It's going to be alright."

But her words did not stop the woman from shaking uncontrollably. Sobs emerged from within the very depths of her soul, and these very nearly threatened to split her frail form apart. "How can it be alright?" she asked, the bitterness and the tears mixing in her tone, "Evelyn, she's… she's…"

"We're going to find her," Ned told her firmly. "She can't be far away."

Marguerite, whose eyes were closed until then, forced them open to glare menacingly at Malone. She quietly but deftly stepped out of Veronica's comforting hug. "How did he lose her?" she asked.

"Challenger said that the force knocked him out as well," said Ned with a doubting look on his face. "When he awoke, she was no longer there beside him."

"Bullshit," Marguerite whispered under her breath, "He's lying. I know he is."

Veronica was never the voice of reason, but now she felt the need to be one. "Why would he lie about something like that?" she asked, almost distraughtly. She was never proud, and she'd never thought, that the day will come when she was going to defend her uncle in front of her friend, much less _this friend, who had already lost so much. _

Apparently, she and Marguerite were thinking along the same lines. She turned and gazed at Veronica with her silver eyes, disbelief etched in every corner of her face. "Why would he?" Marguerite repeated, in an almost insulting tone, "Because he's a bloody bastard, who gets his _fun out of watching other people suffer. He's angry that William's still alive, he's angry at __me because I failed to kill him, and now he's taking his anger out on my _daughter_." She looked at Ned again. "Where's Challenger? I need to see him."_

Before Ned could answer, Veronica did it for him. "Not on your condition," she firmly stated.

Marguerite glared at her, her face hard. "You're not a doctor, nor are you my mother, Veronica," she spat. "You can_not tell me what I can or cannot do."_

Veronica scowled at the insinuation thrown at her way. "So _this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, huh?" she asked. "_This_ is your way of showing your appreciation to me, after all the time I spent caring for you. Gee, I'm touched."_

There were several tensed moments that went by after the exchange of these words. However, something in Marguerite's face visibly softened. "I know very well that I owe you my life," she started to say in a low voice, "I know that I should be _serving you after all that you've done for me. But, Veronica," she implored, the anguish in her very being coming to life in her face, "please understand. This is my daughter we're talking about. She's lost, and I am _not _going to risk her staying that way just because _I _am not well enough to go look for her." Marguerite hesitated, and then continued, "Maybe… maybe if you have a daughter… you will understand. You will __know what I am feeling right now." _

Veronica clenched her jaw and looked away without any word. 

Ned filled in the sudden silence that cloaked the room. "We understand your situation, Marguerite. Don't ever think for a moment that we don't," he said softly, "but—"

"Then tell me where Challenger is, and how I can go to him." Marguerite took a step towards him, imploring openly, something she had never done before. "If you understand me, then you know how important it is for me to talk to him. Please, Ned. _Please_."

He sighed, and then finally relented. "Fine," he said, "come with me." He walked towards the door, pointedly ignoring the broken remnants of the table in this room.

Marguerite turned her back on Veronica to follow Malone, but before she could even take a step forward, Veronica's voice stopped her. She turned around again.

Veronica was looking at her, but the anger in her face was now gone. "I'm coming with you."

Her eyes widened at that. "But—"

The younger woman merely smiled slightly at her. "I may not be your doctor, or your mother, Marguerite. But I _am your friend, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to let you leave and be alone in your condition."_

*

John effortlessly lifted the young girl up and deposited her on his bed. He grimaced at the sharp bones that he felt under his fingers, and felt it right that he needed to vent his anger on the way the nurses were _mistreating this girl. He gave her a smile and asked, "Are you hungry?"_

She stared at her, the depths of her blue eyes unfathomable, before she slowly nodded.

Glad that he was making some progress, he went to the table that held all his food, picked up an apple and a pear from the basket of fruits that lied on one side and gave it to her. 

She took one of the fruits, placed it inside the large pocket of her hospital gown, and then reached for the other. She immediately opened her mouth and bit into the apple.

John chuckled. "And they tell me that _you're the one who doesn't want to eat," he mused dryly._

He let her eat for a few moments, then took the apple core from her little hands and threw it in the garbage can. Then he retrieved a towel from the bathroom and proceeded to wipe her hands clean with it. He watched her as she watched his hands covering the small of her own. "Tell me," he said gently, "what's your name?"

She raised her face and met his eyes. As though finally finding him to be worthy, she said, in a very small voice, "Evelyn."

"Evelyn," John repeated, "that's a pretty name." He gently touched her chin and grinned at her. "I'm John."

"John?" she repeated, as though making sure that she was saying it correctly. When he nodded, she gave him the slightest quirking of her lips. "John."

But to John, this was a monumental progress indeed. The little girl was finally talking, and to _him _for that matter. "Evelyn," he said again, "where are your parents?"

The quirk disappeared from her mouth, and John realized that he asked the wrong question. But before he could apologize, she told him, "My mom's in the church," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Then her lips quivered as tears formed in her eyes. "My mom's in the church when the fireworks started. I don't think she got out."

He lifted his hand and rubbed the girl's back. "Shh," he soothed, and then he bent down to kiss the top of the girl's head. "I'm sure your mom's okay."

"But you don't understand!" she suddenly yelled. "Uncle… uncle Geo… Georg—" the rest of her words were drowned by the hiccups that punctuated her every word.

"I'll tell you what," John told her as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, "why don't we look around here to see if your mother is around, okay? Maybe she's somewhere here, and she's already looking and waiting for you." 

Evelyn just nodded at him. 

"Okay," John said, as he lifted her body off the bed and deposited her on the floor. He held out his hand, and unhesitatingly, she took it. They then left his room. "Evelyn," he called to her, once they were already walking along the corridor, "Evelyn, you have to tell me your mother's name so that I could ask for her."

She nodded, and then mumbled softly.

John raised his brows at her. "Hmm?" he asked gently, "What's that?"

"I said, my mom's name is Marguerite." 

To be continued…

**To those who were *Gryffindor* enough to review (yes, I'm still obsessed with Harry Potter *actually I'm obsessed with Draco Malfoy, but that's _sooo not the point*):_**

LadySammyMRoxton - *closes her eyes and sighs contentedly* Ahh, yeeessss…. I certainly feel my head swelling bigger now. Thank you very much… I needed that! And I presume you're still glaring at me, right? *glares right back, but can't do it properly because of my rather large *ahem* head) Oh, and my ego is fine, very fine, in fact… *gives you a hug* Thank you, thank you, thank you, LadySammyMRoxton. I mean that! Oh, and THANK YOU!!!

AgentSteph – I can't tell you yet! Because if I tell you, then I'd have to kill you… hmm. Quick, almost painless death or intentionally prolonged agony? You decide… *wink* though I'm rrreeeaaaallllyyyy more inclined towards the agony, but that's just me, LOL!!!

SierraSunshine – Oh, HEY there! I haven't seen you around before so I'd like to extend my warmest regards towards you. Don't be confused, though, I'm usually nice to the new reviewers but hang on a bit and you'll get to see the REAL me!!! Nasty, I'll tell ya' *winks*

Wishes – Oh, thank you very much, wishes! At least *I'm* not the only one confused around here… *evil snigger* Just joking, just joking!!! ;)

Galxychild - *muses out loud* maybe I'll just leave John crazy and end it like that… *looks around, finally notices that Galxychild is here* Oh, HEY!!! *twitches* you didn't read that, did you? *Grins, then gives her last thought some more… well, thought* hmm…

TheChosenOne3 – Ahem. Before we go to business, let's get it on with HP first… *you know, you really shouldn't have told me you're crazy about HP too, 'coz now…* Have you seen the latest PoA pics? My gawd, how fast can these kids grow? Oh, I agree with you, Daniel isn't hard on the eyes… *gets dreamy eyed* and so is Tom… *fans self* whew. Is it bad to like someone three years younger than you are? *does ala-Umbridge* Hem hem. Anyways, yes, to TLW… Marguerite's going to be really busy these days, but speaking of Marguerite… do you know that, in school, I've christened myself as Marguerite Malfoy, long-lost sister of Lucius AND a proud member of the Death Eaters? See how demented I am? And see how I _conveniently re-routed the conversation back to HP?!!! ;) ;) :) Oh, I'm OBSESSED, OBSESSED I tell 'ya… *winks* oh, before I forget, my site's a bit HP-related… it features D/Hr nowadays. Give it a lookie… please? *insert puppy eyes here*_

A. Windsor - *tries to look stern* And, yes, may I ask why you are giggling, hmm? But oh, hey! Thanks for the compliment… ;) 

AerinBrown – Nope, I haven't mentioned that N and V are married… *little bombshells like this are the keys to kill, 'ya know* Just to let you know, I've talked to William about your *ahem* fickleness *ahem* and you just lost yourself a boyfriend! But then, that's ANOTHER Roxton for ME, so, hrrmmm… *gets all dreamy eyed*

Michi17 – I'm very, very pleased to see that you are back, Michi ;) I've missed ya', seriously! What have you been up tom, hmm? ;) Oh, and thank you for the regular check-ups for updates, I'm very glad to read that you like this little story of mine :)

Veggie5 - *stomps foot angrily* SO glad to read that I'm not the only one having problems with ff.net. I can't read all my reviews! *whimpers* anyways… YOU were gone for quite a long time, but lucky you, you've got only a week to go! And, yes, your pleading looks do affect me, despite my stone-ish heart and all that… whaatt? I _can _be soft sometimes, 'ya know… *but that's just between you and me, hmm? Don't wanna ruin what's left of my reputation… *wink* 

Smiley – Oh, you're just as bad as LadySammyMRoxton… you both just have the words to make me feel all important and stuff! Thank you!!! *gives you a hug, too* 

* If you reviewed and I didn't acknowledge you, please know that its ff.net's fault. You see, in my stat page the review number is 140 (instead of 142) and I cannot access the other two reviews… if you're one of those two, please accept my heartfelt THANK YOU!


	17. Seventeen

**Author's Notes:  ***Gets all wide-eyed* WOW! I think last chapter was the chapter that earned the most number of reviews. Thank you, guys! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!! *starts handing lollypops* This chapter is dedicated to my friend, TLC, because I've committed her into helping me work out the wrinkles of my CoTB. Hehe ;)

Anyways, I'm sorry again for leaving you all… baah, its been too long, I know. I mean, seven or so weeks? *weeps* I'm really, really sorry, guys! I'll make it up to you, just tell me how and maybe we can work something out… ;)

**Behold the Façade**

_Chapter Seventeen_

"Marguerite?" John repeated faintly. He stopped walking and looked down on the child, his eyes suddenly wide. "Did you just say Marguerite?"

Evelyn nodded, her own eyes large at the uproar her answer seemed to have unleashed upon John's face. "Why?" she asked him. "Do you know my mommy?"

But John was not hearing anything else that time; there was the sound of blood rushing to his brain as he tried to process what Evelyn was telling him. _Her mother's name is Marguerite… but… could it be? No… of course not… maybe there's another Marguerite, there has to be… _He placed both his hands on the child's shoulders and kneeled in front of her, until he was looking straight at her eyes. "Evelyn," he started undecidedly, not knowing how to bring up the question, "Evelyn, tell me. Is Marguerite _Krux_ your mother?" 

She bit her lip, before she nodded. 

A thousand thoughts streamed through his consciousness at once; thoughts that were too fast and too incoherent that he had trouble going through each of them all. This child… Evelyn is Marguerite's _daughter? A daughter! So it seemed as though his earlier suspicions about the enigmatic Ms. Krux were indeed correct… she wasn't meant to be trusted, because look… here was something, some__one, she had conveniently __forgotten to introduce to his family. What else did that woman keep from them? What other dirty little secrets is she hiding? John's eyes hardened as he stared at Evelyn. Did William know of her existence? Did their mother know that her beautiful daughter-in-law already had a daughter outside her supposed marriage?_

Evelyn's lips quivered. "You know my mommy, don't you?" she asked. "Do you know where she is? I've been looking for her everywhere… they told me she was here, but she's not! I want to see my mommy… I swear, I'll be good if I could just… see… her…" She brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes as her tears came tumbling from them.

The sobs coming from her roused John from his seemingly frozen state. Quickly shoving his thoughts to one side, he lifted his hands off her shoulders and took hers off of her face. Using his thumbs, he wiped away her tears. "Evelyn," he said, punctuating her name with a slight smile on his face, "don't cry. I promise you that we will find your mother."

She gave another sob, before she muttered, "Really?"

John tapped her nose lightly with his finger. "Yes, really." He stood up, and then took her hand again. "You must have a thousand questions for her," he mused out loud. 

Then, his eyes darkened once again. "I know I do." 

*

"You seem quiet, Jerome," George muttered as he opened a bottle of alcohol he had taken from his bar. "Brandy?" he offered.

Jerome looked at him, and shook his head. "No, thank you," he answered.

George Challenger was never a man who took no for an answer; he poured the brandy onto two glasses and, despite his guest's refusal, deposited the full glass on the table in front of Lord Duncan. He cocked his head to one side and took a sip. "What brings you here, my good _friend?" he asked. "The last time I saw you inside my house, you could barely say a word to me, and __now you dare summon the courage to intrude my rest?"_

The other man did not miss the deadly sarcasm that coated each of the older man's words. "I'm sorry, sir," Jerome began. "But I am here because of a very serious matter. You do realize that our plans took a very wrong turn… do you?"

George's lips curled up into a nasty sneer. "Unfortunately, I am aware of such a fact," he replied. He downed the rest of his brandy. "Sad, isn't it? I'm sure the Roxtons would only be too cautious from now on. Imagine how difficult planning their deaths would be when they have guards guarding their every move."

Jerome exhaled the breath he was holding… surely this man was only joking, isn't he? "George… sir," he amended when the older man glared at him, "I've heard that John is already contacting his sources to know who is behind that… incident. Sooner or later he is going to find out—"

"Find out what, exactly?" George refilled his glass. "There is no possible way he can find out that the… _accident… is somehow linked to us. Unless, of course, __you tell them otherwise." _

"I would never do such a thing!" Jerome replied vehemently. He seethed at the implication… no, accusation, that _he would be the one to rat on them both. _

"No," the older man said in a placating tone, "of course you wouldn't. However, I am under the impression that someone _else would."_

Jerome's eyes widened as realization struck him. "Marguerite," he breathed.

"Kill the woman," George told him simply, "and you can rest your fears along with her." 

*

"John… what a pleasant surprise." Lady Roxton smiled at her son as he entered quietly into her room. Her eyes then shifted over to the child he had with him. "Ah, I see you brought a guest with you."

"Hello, mother," John greeted her as he dropped a kiss on her cheek. "I trust that you are feeling well?"

"Well enough to tell the doctors how bored I am of their décor," she said cheekily. Victoria chuckled at her own candor. "But enough of that. Haven't I taught you any lessons on courtesy, young man? Aren't you going to introduce me with the beautiful young lady you have there?"

The child looked at her uncertainly, then shuffled her feet as she bowed her head low.

"I am getting to that," John said, a tad defensively. "Evelyn," he said to the child, "I would like you to meet my mother, Lady Victoria Roxton."

Evelyn did a little curtsy. "Madame," she said politely.

Victoria looked pleased. "Such perfect manners," she said, smiling down on the child. "Your parents must be proud of you."

The comment seemed to have a bad effect on her son as his face tightened almost immediately. "Mother," he said, "this is Miss Evelyn Krux."

Lady Roxton's eyes flew towards John's face. "Krux?" she repeated. 

"Yes, Mother." John affirmed. "This is Miss Evelyn Krux, your beloved daughter's very own _daughter_."

*

"Kill Marguerite?" Jerome muttered as he stared, bewildered, at Challenger. "You're not serious."

"Aren't I?" George asked him. "Our plans have gone mad because of you, Jerome. _You _were the one who hired her. _You _were the one who made her our bait. If there's anyone of us to correct these matters, it's you." 

Jerome attempted to say something, but gave up. He slumped back onto his chair. "You're talking about murdering a person," he said low. "I cannot do that. I will not."

"Now _there's _irony if I ever heard one!" George bellowed. He gestured at the younger man with the hand he used to hold his glass. "You, Lord Jerome Duncan, hesitant to kill one useless woman when you have all but killed fourteen innocent others with your own hands? Isn't it a bit late to cower behind all your morals, young man?"  

"That's different!" Jerome insisted.

"Oh?" George asked silkily. "How is it different, then? A rose is a rose is a rose, my friend. Or have you forgotten that?" 

The younger man stared indignantly at him. "I will not kill her," he insisted.

"Fine then." George walked behind his bar and stopped as he rummaged for something in its drawers. "But I have a proposition for you. Kill the woman, or…" 

Jerome then found himself face to face with a gun, with death, as he heard George finish, "I kill you."

To be continued…

**To those who reviewed: (And can't you just hear me sing 'I love you, I love you, I love you' in the background?)**

Michi17 – Thank you! Oh, and did you receive the e-mail I sent you? *Grins* going to California, eh? You lucky girl you, I'd love to travel like that! It's just typical that *others* can go around and travel while *I* get to be stuck at home. *whines* it sucks! *wails*

Wishes – Yes, I a very happy that the last chapter got you out of your seat… ;) I wonder what song and dance number you did… care to share? *winks*

Enchanter – Thank you for two reasons: 1) You reviewed this story! Yay! And, 2) Thank you also for reviewing my other fics. It is really wonderful to receive reviews, so thank you very much! *Oh, I'm being nice! Weird, I tell 'ya…* 

Galxychld – Thank you for the compliment! I hope you'll be around to find out what's going to happen next ;) And I'm glad you found the end notes to be funny… heehee, I'm nutters, I know ;)

A. Windsor – Oh, A. Windsor. I said it before and I'll say it again: I just love you! Thank you for editing my fic, you were great! Oh, and I haven't written anything more to that, so you can breathe a sigh of relief *for the moment, wahehehe* 

Agentsteph – Yes, Evelyn is really smart, isn't she? Hmm… *winks* thank you for the reviews, I appreciate it much!

Fab - *gets all cryptic* maybe… though to be honest I haven't thought of interpreting Ned and Veronica's looks that way. Thank you for the brilliant suggestion, my friend! 

TheChosenOne3 – Hey! I've enjoyed our talks and exchange of ideas… *grins* thank you for the words of encouragement, TLC! Hope to hear more from you!

Spirita – Woohoo! A new reviewer! Hey, you! Glad to know you enjoy this story of mine… thanks!

Cara18 – Thanks, Cara! You know I always look forward to your reviews! I love them, and thank you very much!

Veggie5 - *claps wildly* you're back! Yay! You're back! Yay! And now you don't have any reason to put that writing of yours off… post a new fic, pronto! I *demand* that you do! Quickly! Now! Immediately! _Ngayon_ na! _(Okay, did I just speak a different language in there? Hmm… Ngayon na basically means NOW!)_

LadySammyMRoxton – Aw, Sammy! *embarrassedly wipes away a tear from my eye* I LOVE YOU! *sniff, sniff* Look what you've done! I'm not usually this emotional, but… but… *lip quivers, then I finally break down and wail*

Brainfear – *gains composure after that dramatic display* Hello there! Thank you for this review, I appreciate it much! 

AerinBrown – Ah-ha! *glares menacingly* ENEMY! *snorts* Nah, just joking. I like you too much to dislike you… *grin* So you're a lurking HP fan too, huh? And a Draco/Ginny supporter! At least we agree that Draco's one hot dad-day! Woohoo! And William… yours? Ask him, I dare you, ask him to whom does he belong to. ASK HIM!!!

Angel LeeAnn – Thank you! I appreciate your reviews every chance I get them. And don't worry about that! Just the fact that you reviewed the last one makes everything alright again, so… thanks a lot!

Gilly – Hey! Thanks! I was wondering where you were…

Smiley – Yes, yes, reunion scene coming right up! Thank you for the review!

Margie - *smiles* you know I love you, Margie, right? Yeah, yeah you do… *grin*

Challengerspet – Oh, hey! I'm your kind of a sadistic person? Ha! Thanks!

Mags968 – Hmm… I didn't take a course on cliffhangers, it's something of mine that's… innate. Hehe… and I've developed it well for the past years… *insane laughter*

Barbiedahl – ooh, a new reviewer! Hey! *waves gaily* thank you for the review! And I hope you stick around for more!

Scarlet Dimonds – thank you for the review, and as requested, here's chapter seven :) Hope you liked it!

Prin69 – hey there! Thank you for the review. Anyways, I hope this new chapter helps you with your fanfic withdrawal… 


	18. Eighteen

**Author's Notes: **Ah-hah! At least the hiatus wasn't six or seven weeks… ack, I know, I'm weaseling my way out of this… forgive me, please? *waves an 'I love you all!' flag* Anyways, hope you'll enjoy! Kudos to the ones who can find the line I have lifted from HP Book Three! (AerinBrown, TheChosenOne3, I'm looking at you both! ;p)

Chapter Eighteen 

Jerome swallowed as he stared at the gun. He dared to raise his eyes to George's face. "You… you can't be serious," he muttered nervously. 

George quirked an eyebrow at him. "Aren't I?" he asked nonchantly. He glanced at the gun, and then at the man he was pointing it at. "Surely, this gun that I hold to your head proves my… _seriousness_ over the matter. It's simple, really, if you look at it. You kill the woman, and that's the end of the story. We can forget that all these unfortunate things ever occurred."

Jerome started breathing shallowly as panic overtook him. "George—"

"I liked you, Lord Duncan. Truly, I did," Challenger started almost conversationally. He even wore a small smile on his face to lighten the moment. "You seem like a decent man, and it was very clear that you loved my dear Liezl. Even _I _can see your devotion to her. You would have made a fine husband, and a fine son-in-law, if only my daughter did not meet that bastard John Roxton. How regrettable it is that it only took a man like him to destroy everything… all our hopes, our futures…" Finally, he lowered the gun. Challenger could clearly see that the younger man breathed a sigh of relief, but of course, he was not quite finished yet. He quickly pinned the man a glare that made him breathe faster again. "And then, who could ever forget dear Mrs. Krux? Paid whore, hired killer… why, her assignment was easy enough, for all she needed to do was attend her own wedding with the unfortunate William Roxton. All she needed to do was to show up for the wedding that was designed to rob John a valuable part of his life, but did it happen? Did William – or even Victoria Roxton, for heaven's sake! – did they die?" Challenger gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Of course not! The old saying is true, then, that vile beings never die young!"

"George—" Jerome tried again, only his words were cut short when the older man continued with his tirade.  

"And then… _you_." Challenger took a step closer to him. "Afraid of the consequences of all our actions… tell me, my untypical radical, why are you so adamant on killing Marguerite? Surely it'd be so easy; all you need to do is go to Malone's house and be done with it. I could even lend you my gun." He raised the gun again, but he turned it so that he was offering the handle to the other man.

Jerome looked at the gun, before he raised his eyes to meet Challenger's. "But—"

"Look at it this way: you'll be doing the world a service by ridding it of a woman like her." George thrust the gun at him. "Go on! Take this, you spineless coward! Go to Malone's house and kill her!"

"I don't think a trip to Malone's house would be really necessary."

Both Jerome and George looked at the door, only to find out that _Marguerite_ was there. She had Veronica and Ned behind her, and in her hands she clutched her very own gun. She had it aimed at George. "Hello," she said with a smile. "Now before I kill you, I have one question to ask you, _Sir_ George. Where's my daughter?"

*

"D-daughter?" Victoria whispered, as she stared hard at her son. She tried to smile at him, as if silently coaxing him to tell her that he was only joking. "Marguerite? Clearly, John, you must be mistaken…" But the haggard look on her son's face told her otherwise. "But that's… that's impossible, I mean… she… this… this child… it just can't be! She would have told us before, John! She would have told us!"

John closed his eyes, and silently, vilely cursed. Indeed, there were a lot of loose ends in this, a lot of unexplained things that he would only be too happy to throttle the answers out of a certain brunette… "She didn't," he stated simply. "That mere fact should be able to tell us a _lot_ about the kind of woman—"

"John, please." Victoria glanced at Evelyn, and the older woman could clearly see the confusion that was written all over the child's face. "The child…leave her out of this; she is too young. You have to… bring her elsewhere before we continue with this discussion." She buried her face in her hands.

Roxton looked down at Evelyn, as if reminded that she was there, and that she very nearly heard all the vile things he was about to say about her mother. "I'm sorry," he told her, as he took her hand in his, and began to lead her out of the room. "I should—"

"You both know my mother, don't you," Evelyn said, as she looked up at him with sad, wounded eyes. "Where is she? I thought… you said you were going to find her for me." Her voice was very nearly at the edge of tears.

At those words, Victoria looked up. "Where…? John, what is the meaning of this? Marguerite isn't here?"

John shook his head. "I can't find her anywhere in this hospital," he answered. 

"How is that possible? You said—"

"I know what I said before, Mother!" John said exasperatedly. He turned towards the child again. "Evelyn," he stated firmly, "listen to me. I will find Marguerite for you, all right? I promise. I just have to talk to my mother first, okay?"

Evelyn looked at Victoria, and then at John. She hiccupped, and then allowed herself to be led away.

As the two left her room, Lady Roxton inhaled deeply, as she tried to calm herself down. But how could she? How could she ever be calm when she just learned that a woman they had trusted had deliberately fooled her and her whole family? She loved Marguerite; she unquestionably gave her affection like any mother would to her own flesh and blood. She accepted her, even welcomed her into the family, without even doubting her parentage or where it was that she came from. She took her in, gave her a warm place to sleep, and gave her anything and everything she needed to make herself comfortable as she stayed at their home… and now, a betrayal like this? _Honesty, trust and love… _oh, the irony was not lost on Lady Roxton! 

When John opened the door to her room again, Victoria looked at him, her own face solemn. "She… she lied to us," she whispered. "Marguerite, she…"

"I know, Mother," John told her, as he approached her bed. "I never thought I would say this, but in a way, it is almost a blessing that the church exploded before William married her. Only the Good God knows what could have happened if he did!"

Lady Roxton cleared her throat, and when she looked at her son, there was bitterness and anger in her eyes. "And _you_… you lied to me, to us, as well. You told me she was here! You told me the reason I couldn't see her was because—"

"Mother," John said, as he placed his hand over hers, "Mother, I apologize for lying to you, but I only did this because I thought that the news of her absence might only bring more damage to your health and to William's." He looked at her in the eye. "I don't want to cause you any more worries, not when you are very well on the road to recovery."

"And this?" she asked him. "This… this news, this proof of her deception… you didn't think this would affect me more?"

He sighed. "I only found out this morning," John admitted. "And I… I didn't think at all. I was so angry that she lied to you, to William… I forgot about everything. I only cared about letting you know what a fraud she is."

Silence loomed between them. 

And then, "What are we going to say to William, John?" Victoria asked him, her voice very small.

"I don't know, Mother. I just… I just don't know."    

*

"Ah, speak of the devil!" Challenger jeered. He straightened himself, unmindful of the gun that was pointed at his own body. "Marguerite Krux… and you even brought your own troops, I see! Veronica, my very own niece… showing your support of this woman? This is unexpected, I must say."

"As is the news that you no longer have Evelyn," Veronica said, her face hard as she stared at her uncle. 

Challenger clucked his tongue as he glanced at Malone. "News surely travel fast, doesn't it, Ned?"

"Answer me, you evil bastard!" Marguerite demanded, as she took a step forward. "Where's Evelyn?"

He gestured at his surroundings. "As you can clearly see, your daughter is not with me, and I do not have any knowledge – or even any interest in knowing – what had happened to your beloved child."

Marguerite glared at him, her eyes cold, hard, deadly. "You are going to regret losing her, Challenger," she threatened in a very low voice. "You foul, you evil—" 

And then, before another word was spoken, a clear, deafening sound of a gunshot echoed in the room. 

To Be Continued…

* Eek, I know, you're probably looking for the replies to your replies… what can I say? I'm speechless… eek, is that even possible? :p Anyways, here's a heartfelt THANK YOU! And I LOVE YOU ALL! Till he next update, folks! :) :) ;) 


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